Two Winters
by guineapiggie
Summary: England, 1950: When ballet student Katerina is chosen to accompany her headmistress's son to the mayor's dance, she wants someone else to take her place. She never planned to discover the Mikaelson's blood-stained family history, never meant to get in trouble and most of all never meant to fall in love. [KALIJAH-focused;all-human AU;rated for violence,language,dark/mature content]
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own The Vampire Diaries or The Originals. No money is made of this. This was written for the purpose of entertainment only.

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><p>Huge thanks to LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou who beta-read every single chapter!<p>

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><p><strong>Two Winters<strong>

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><p><strong>Prologue – January 1951<strong>

_People were shouting all around him; orders, prayers and cries for help mingling into a painful, deafening thunder disrupted only by the staccato of the bullets flying on either side. His mind was oddly blank, he was functioning, not thinking, not feeling. There only was a single thought echoing through his empty head – _he was going to die_… _

_His father lay motionlessly in his study, blood black as ink soaking the expensive carpet; Niklaus stood next to him. His skin was chalky white and his hands shook violently. There were fresh bruises forming on his jaw and his cheekbone; he had a bloody lip and from the way he stood Elijah guessed there were more injuries. "I had to stop him. He would have killed me, Elijah," his brother whispered, his voice hoarse…_

_He gripped his brother by the collar of his shirt, shaking him. "What do you have to do with all this?"  
>"It-", his brother stammered, staring at him with glassy eyes. "It was an accident. I didn't mean to, I swear I didn't, I didn't even know that woman-"<em>

_"Caroline-" He grabbed the girl by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Listen to me. My brother is traumatised, he can't think straight when he's being provoked, it was an accident. Caroline. Promise me you won't say anything. It's not his fault. Promise me you'll help keep my brother save-"_

_His mother's voice, cold and quiet. "You shall accompany my son Elijah."_

_"The honour's all mine, Miss Petrova."_

_Tchaikovsky, the music reaching a crescendo, and even from afar he could see the way her brown eyes shimmered in the stage light, see the delicate blush glowing on her cheeks. She was so beautiful…_

_"I came to see you dance."  
>A small, radiant smile appeared on her lips. The next moment, he could feel himself being tugged forward by the collar of his shirt, felt her soft lips on his and forgot everything…<em>

_Piano chords echoing through their empty, haunted castle of a house, forming a familiar, comforting melody…_

_A searing pain shot through his hand when it hit his brother square in the face with an ugly smacking sound. He drew a shuddering breath and stared at the spot where Niklaus's skin was turning bright red, feeling like all air had been sucked from his lungs…_

_Soft brown curls between his fingers; he was sinking in those chocolate-coloured eyes, feeling warm and more awake, more _alive _than he had in years…_

_A young man, his face bloody, was squirming on the floor, begging in a wild mixture of Russian and English, sobbing, bargaining for his life…_

He woke with a start. The bedroom was dark, only the crisp white sheets glowed slightly in the moonlight. He felt disorientated – there was nothing but clean linen underneath his fingers where he had expected warm liquid; white sheets and dark wooden floor where he had expected scarlet splattered all over his world. His limbs were hopelessly tangled in the blanket sticky with cold sweat. He felt ice-cold and shaky; some heavy weight seemed to be lying on his chest.

The curtains danced in a cool breeze and Elijah caught himself wondering whether he had really opened the window before he'd gone to bed.

He kicked off the sheets with some effort and stumbled out of bed. Shivering with cold and a diffuse panic he couldn't explain, he staggered across the hall, aiming vaguely for the kitchen when he noticed a small pool of light seeping from the study underneath the door. He entered, all but running into the door as he did, and found his brother sitting on the couch next to the fireplace with a glass of scotch.

"Seen a ghost, Elijah?"

His breath still not quite under control, he stopped in the middle of the room, willing his eyes to focus properly, but they didn't.

"I think I'm going insane," he whispered, feeling more lost and colder than ever, despite the fire crackling in the mantelpiece.

Niklaus did not even look remotely surprised by his brother's absurd behaviour.

"I know the feeling," he answered instead, offering him the bottle with that broken, disenchanted smile of his.

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><p><em><strong>*Author's Note*<strong> _Well, there I am now. I've been working at this fic for three months now and decided to upload it now that I've got two thirds of it done. I suppose I should be able to upload once a week, so keep posted ;)  
>Don't worry, it'll all become clearer. Just pay attention to the dates in the headline, that should help to keep up. Please take a moment to leave a review and tell me what you think of it so far!<p> 


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One – September 1950**

She stared at herself in the mirror and could hardly recognise her own face. Her mother's pearl earrings seemed just as strange to her as her long brown curls that flowed freely over her shoulder and down her back. The blouse felt too stiff, the grey woollen skirt too heavy, the shiny black shoes too rigid and the tights itched. She hated her school uniform.

Katerina was used to herself in a heavy white tutu, her long dark hair in a bun so tight it gave her a headache.

But tonight, they were not to look like ballerinas, Mrs Mikaelson had said. Tonight, they were to look like young ladies. They had been allowed jewellery, even make-up, but Katerina did not have any. Katerina did not feel like a lady. She just felt like someone who had been put into a stranger's clothes; it felt wrong and slightly scary.

But, if Katerina Petrova could do anything, then she could survive. She could fit in anywhere – even in a room full of so-called "young ladies".

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

On the way to the dancing room, she almost sprained her ankle in these awful shoes. She hated them with a fierce passion. Caroline too looked sullen and pale, but truth be told, she was still gorgeous. She looked like an angel, flowing blonde waves and big cornflower eyes.

Rebekah did too, obviously. Well, that was not a surprise, she _always _looked perfect, and of course she did. She was the Mikaelson's only daughter, and the school's dancing champion. She looked perfectly happy and excited – of course she did, she was the only one who had nothing to fear.

"Who d'you think they'll choose?" Bonnie whispered in her ear.

Katerina threw a quick look over her shoulder; they weren't supposed to be talking. "Rebekah, of course. You know her brother's never danced with anyone else."

"That still leaves two others," Caroline replied, her voice tense. Those were the first words she'd spoken all day, which was more than unusual. She had been chosen last year.

"Well, we all know it won't be me, I danced like an elephant this term," Bonnie chattered away, completely oblivious to her friends' obvious turmoil. "And anyway, I look rubbish in this tie-" Suddenly Bonnie gasped and stared at Katerina. "Oh my God, Kat, where's your tie? Mrs Mikaelson will _descend_ on you-"

Katerina's hand shot up to her collar, but it was no use – it wasn't there. She swallowed hard. "Maybe she won't notice," she said faintly.

"Are you insane, of course she will," Caroline hissed. "If you're quick, you can still get it, but for God's sake don't be late."

Katerina cursed, then nodded and spun round. After a metre or two, she stopped and jerked the shoes off her feet. Then she ran on, her lungs burning as she stumbled up the endless staircase back to her dormitory. There was the tie, obviously, right where she'd put it this morning, on her dresser. Katerina grabbed it and tied it in running. Her heart stuttered with fear – what if she'd be late, what if she'd be late, what if she'd be _caught? _Mrs Mikaelson would be furious_, _she would make her dance extra hours for _months, _she would only send her to bed when she collapsed in front of the mirror…

Suddenly, she heard voices. Her breath caught in her throat and she skidded to a sudden stop, pressing herself against the wall.

"Take someone else, Elijah," she could hear one of them whine, a man, rather young by the sound of it. She didn't recognise any of her teachers, and going by the posh accent and the fact he was talking to Elijah, the eldest Mikaelson son, she guessed it was one of his younger brothers.

"Why would I do that?" This voice was clipped and one-hundred percent composed, strict.

"Because your brother, who loves you dearly, implores you to take someone else to that stupid dance. It is just one night, you know, and God knows the company of a young woman would do you good," the other went on, practically begging.

"And who is this brother you speak of?"

The other one groaned. "Me, you bloody moron."

"Well, your choice of words really does underline your declaration of love, Niklaus."

_Klaus, _she thought with a shudder. He was, perhaps, the most handsome of the three brothers, but also the most intimidating one. There were dreadful rumours about that man, they said he had a terrible temper, and he did have something distinctly violent about him. His wolfish posture, his hungry eyes – the only one who apparently didn't shrink back at the sight of him was Caroline. It had been him who'd taken her to the dance last year, and though when she came back she made an awfully upset impression on the others girls, she had that fond, somewhat sad smile on her lips when she spoke of him.

Pressed against the wall, Katerina edged around the corner to see that they had disappeared down the corridor. She let out a shaky breath, put her cursed shoes back on and hurried into the dancing room, slipping through the door with the last of the other students. Her heart still pounding, she took her place between Bonnie and Caroline.

.

The room was full of people, but eerily quiet. One could have heard a needle drop.

The entire ballet school stood there, all the girls lined up along the mirror that covered the entire long wall of the room with their backs straight, their heads raised, their feet, all clad in the exact same black patent-leather shoes, all in the third position. None of them stirred.

On the far side of the room, in front of the window, stood the three Mikaelson brothers. Kol, the youngest, was all boyish charm, with dark blonde hair and a mischievous grin. Then there was Klaus – handsome, surely, with his curly hair a little lighter than his younger brother's, the piercing blue eyes; but once again, Katerina felt uneasy at the sight of him. There was something aggressive in his sharp gaze. Next to him stood the oldest of the three. Elijah was the exact opposite of his brothers, both in looks and behaviour. His hair was dark and very neatly cut and underneath the obligatory Mikaelson arrogance, his brown eyes showed softness that his brothers' did not. He looked more comfortable in his suit than Kol and Klaus put together, and his demeanour was almost as stern as his mother's. He stood so very upright Katerina couldn't help wondering whether he'd swallowed a stick.

.

Mrs Mikaelson entered the room, her heels loud on the polished wooden floor.

"Good evening, girls," she called nonchalantly without looking up from her black clipbook.

"Good evening, ma'am," they replied in unison, their voices ringing through the huge room.

"Elijah. Niklaus. Kol," she added, still staring at the clipboard.

"Mother," Elijah gave back curtly, his brothers said nothing.

"All of you know what this is about," Mrs Mikaelson said, coming to a halt in the middle of the room. "Those of you older than fifteen who have danced the best this term will accompany my sons to the mayor's annual prom. I believe it is unnecessary to say that this is a great honour and an even greater responsibility. Now, step forward, please…"

She turned a page on her clipboard and called, still without raising her eyes off the paper:

"Rebekah Mikaelson."

This came as no surprise. Yet still all eyes were on the young blonde girl as she took three measured, graceful steps forward and then stood before her mother, in the exact same position as before.

"Rebekah, you have performed extraordinarily this term. You shall accompany my son Kol."

The silence in the room suddenly felt very heavy. Katerina felt Caroline and Bonnie stiffen next to her, and if it hadn't been so strictly forbidden to talk the room would have been buzzing. Even Rebekah herself looked slightly confused.

This had _never _happened. Rebekah had alwaysaccompanied Elijah.

Kol didn't look entirely happy with the whole arrangement, either; his older brother looked his usual overly-composed self.

Mrs Mikaelson went on with the same blank expression.

"Caroline Forbes."

A panicked little spark lit up in Caroline's eyes. She stepped forward and stood still, clearly not as calm as Rebekah had been under Mrs Mikaelson's sharp eyes.

"Caroline, you too have danced excellently. You shall accompany my son Niklaus."

A faint, wolfish smile played around Klaus's lips. Bonnie and Katerina exchanged a worried glance. _Again? _Bonnie mouthed, Katerina just shrugged.

The atmosphere tensed even more as they waited for the last name. _Annabelle Nguyen, _they had supposed earlier, _or Hayley Marshall._

"Katerina Petrova."

She froze, having quite forgotten how to breathe.

How could it be her? Surely the other girls had been better than her. She hadn't been that good, and anyway she didn't even _want _to go; she had no desire whatsoever to dance with any of the Mikaelsons at the ball.

Her head was spinning. Bonnie gave her a small shove and she staggered forward, lacking all the grace the other two had displayed.

Mrs Mikaelson raised a brow at her, and her voice seemed even cooler than usual when she said:

"Katerina, you too have performed admirably. You shall accompany my son Elijah."

Her head was starting to spin again. She took a deep breath.

"You understand, girls, that you shall represent this school at the dance as much as you shall represent my family. This is a great responsibility for you all and I expect perfect behaviour as well as extraordinary dancing, you are, after all, the best students of a dancing school."

_Breathe in._

"Yes, ma'am," she, Caroline and Rebekah replied in unison.

_Breathe out._ She was fairly sure she was in shock.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"Oh. My. God. I can't believe it." Bonnie shook her head and dropped on her bed. "I just _can't _believe it. Both of you, at the mayor's prom, I cannot believe it."

"Yeah, you said that quite a lot."

"Well, I can't believe it!"

Katerina sighed. Bonnie and Caroline had practically dragged her back to the dormitory; she had hardly been able to think straight, leave alone walk straight. Now her head was clear again, she wasn't feeling much better – spending an entire night in a huge ballroom crowded with rich, educated people in the company of Elijah Mikaelson was not exactly a thrilling prospect in her opinion. They had literally _nothing _in common; he was a Mikaelson, rich, educated and powerful, and she was just a girl from a Bulgarian family who could have never afforded this school without her scholarship. Besides, she was seventeen and he somewhere in his mid-twenties_. _

What were they even supposed to _talk _about?

"Me neither," she answered faintly, stretching out on her bed. "Me neither."

She rolled over on the bed, facing the girl on her right that had been suspiciously silent since the ceremony.

"What about you, Caroline?"

The blonde shrugged, and picked up a book from her bedside table. "Well, I tried very hard this term," she answered in a tone that fooled neither of the other two.

"But _Klaus, _and don't forget this is the second time he chose you," Bonnie said in an excited whisper.

"I know that, Bonnie," Caroline gave back irritably.

"There's something wrong with him," Katerina said quietly. "He scares me."

"He scares everyone."

"He was always nice to me," the blonde answered, more to herself than the others. Katerina was starting to think that she should not only worry about herself, and she wanted to find out what had happened on that ball the previous year more than ever. How could it be that Caroline was so fond of him while at the same time looking so scared whenever she set eyes on him?

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

Katerina was tired, but she didn't care. She was used to it – this was how it went every single day, and she wouldn't have it any other way. She loved dancing, and by now she felt like she needed this as much as she needed to breathe. Nothing could clear her mind the way ballet could.

"Miss Petrova, raise your foot a little," Miss Fleming called. "More. More. That's it. _Head up, _Miss Young, there is nothing on the ground that needs staring at. Miss Forbes, the position of your hand, what is that supposed to be? Very good, Miss Mikaelson. Alright, and now I'd like to see your turn… Miss Nguyen, do that again, and this time keep straight." She frowned at Anna and sighed.

She clapped her hands. "Miss Nguyen, work on that turn. Miss Marshall, you were poorly stretched, I won't have that again. Dismissed."

Isobel Fleming tucked her thick dark hair behind her ear, pierced them all with a dissatisfied glance and strode out of the room. The moment the door fell shut behind her, the room was filled with chatter.

"Well, then, Katerina. Elijah Mikaelson, huh?" Hayley Marshall gracefully slid to the floor beside her and reached down to her feet.

"Believe me, I'm as shocked as you are," she muttered, beginning to stretch, too.

"I wonder why he chose to take someone else this year," Anna Nguyen quipped in.

Katerina sighed and stared at the wooden floorboards underneath her fingers. Like it always had during the last week, she felt like her heart was stuck in her throat at the thought of the dance that was only another three days ago.

"I'm gonna find out soon enough, I guess," she murmured and rose to her feet. "Care, we're supposed to meet Mrs Mikaelson in two hours about the dresses."

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><p><em><strong>*Author's Note*<strong> _These are probably going to get a little long sometimes, feel free to skip if you're not into it.

A few words to the characters – I wanted them to remain as close to their characters on the show as possible. If you find Katherine out of character, you're probably right – I chose the name with a lot of care. I want Katerina Petrova the way she was when she was still human, her personality in the sixteenth century. Don't worry, though, you'll catch a glimpse of good old Katherine Pierce later on :)

Caroline will be explored a little more in later chapters, but I really hope I got her alright – I _love _her to bits and pieces.

I'm, well… not very fond of Bonnie, as you can probably tell. I hope you don't find her too one-dimensional, but she's really just in this because she's part of the main cast on the show ^^

More about the Mikaelsons to come in chapter two.

I'm trying to include as many characters from the show as possible, let's see if you can spot them all ;)


	3. Chapter Two

**Some theme music suggestions:**

Katerina & Elijah: "The Only Hope For Me Is You" - My Chemical Romance (yes, the band's a little... special, but do give the song a try, it's perfect)  
>"Sherlocked" - Michael Prize &amp; David Arnold if you're into something a little more classical (in that case, you could always play Swan Lake...)<p>

Caroline & Klaus: "Til Kingdom Come" - Coldplay

Klaus & Elijah: "No light, no light" - Florence + The Machine

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><p>For the ball scene, I had "Bed Of Roses" by Bon Jovi playing - I know it's not even remotely fitting, but in my mind they're always dancing to this song...<p>

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><p><strong>Chapter Two – September 1950<strong>

The dress was of a deep burgundy red. It had a tightly fitted bodice and a full, stiff skirt that reminded her pleasantly of her dancing tutus; it was made from chiffon and a few other fabrics Katerina couldn't even tell the name of and all in all it was more exquisite and more expensive than anything she'd ever worn in her life. She was almost glad she would have to give it back – she would have been scared to keep something so precious in her wardrobe.

Caroline was already fully prepared and looked like a film star in her silvery blue dress and her artful updo. She had quite a talent for hairdos and such; right now she was busy wrestling Katerina's long curls into something fit for a dance, muttering curses under her breath when they refused to do her bidding.

"Care, you do realise that I don't want to look like a poodle," she joked feebly, anxiously watching her friend's doing in the mirror.

"Oh, _damn,_" Caroline said with biting sarcasm in her voice – clearly she was as nervous as Katerina was. "You should've said that earlier."

"Just give it up, Care. I'll do my dancing hair-"

"Oh no, you won't," Caroline snapped, pulling her hair up into a shape Katerina had never even _thought _of doing her hair. "You are _not _just gonna look like you do every day. You're going to _the _ballof the year, Miss Petrova."

Katerina sighed. "Why do I have the feeling you're scared?"

Her friend didn't reply, just wrenched a few last pins into the hairdo and stepped back. "Tadaa," she said lamely, lacking her usual optimism. She was pale underneath the rouge on her cheeks.

Katerina stared into the mirror, trying to take in how unfamiliarly _elegant _her reflection looked back at her, her curls turned into large waves that flowed over her back with the front part pinned back neatly. Her lips were painted red with Caroline's lipstick. "It's beautiful, Care."

A tentative smile tugged at her friend's lips for a moment. "Thank you. Now get into that dress and come on."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

The room was as huge as it was gorgeous – Katerina had never seen such splendour before. Gigantic flower bouquets and garlands hung of the walls and the polished marble floor was a jewel all of its own. The hundreds of lights glittered in the champagne glasses that were carried around by innumerable waiters in tuxedos.

"What year is it again, 1750?" Katerina whispered to Caroline whose smile looked rather unconvincing. "You'd think we were in Buckingham Palace or something."

Klaus, walking on the far left next to Caroline, gave a low chuckle. He looked great, his curls shining like dark gold, and his smoking fit him like a second skin. Only his reckless smile seemed a little misplaced, a smile like that did not belong into a world as disciplined and tidy as this one.

His siblings looked just fit for the whole place. Kol wore perfectly groomed hair and a mischievous grin; his sister floated next to him in an olive green dress, looking like a sulking goddess.

Only Elijah looked surprisingly… normal. He was the only one who didn't look like a dressed-up little boy, probably because he always wore suits and neat hair, even his tie seemed to be a constant part of him. Katerina couldn't help thinking he looked _hot_, though she gave her best not to notice. What she _did _notice, though, was that he looked almost as troubled as she and Caroline, and she couldn't understand why. He belonged in places like this, with his expensive tux, not borrowed like her own clothes, his stiff posture, his place at a fancy law school, his education and his shiny shoes.

Still, he seemed uneasy, especially when two men came walking towards them.

"Mayor Lockwood," Elijah greeted the older of the two. "Mister Lockwood."

"Elijah. Kol. Rebekah. Oh, and the lovely Caroline," the Mayor greeted jovially. "Niklaus," he then added in a much colder tone.

"Mayor," Klaus gave back, looking back at the older man defiantly. "Tyler."

Katerina caught Elijah throwing his brother a warning glance. Tyler Lockwood glowered at the second-oldest Mikaelson, looking rather murderous underneath his handsome features.

"Hello, Rebekah. Caroline, nice to see you again," he said, turning to Caroline with a much friendlier look on his face. Klaus's smile had vanished entirely.

"And who's your lovely company?" the Mayor inquired quickly, turning back to Elijah, clearly trying to distract from the two alpha-wolves fighting for their territory next to them.

"Katerina Petrova," she answered before Elijah had even opened his mouth, tired of being ignored. They lived in the 20th century, damn it; he could talk to _her _if he wanted to know her name.

"From our mother's dancing school," Elijah added, sounding a little sour.

"Well, I hope you'll all enjoy yourselves," the Mayor said and turned away to greet new guests, practically dragging his son along as he went. Katerina watched them go, wondering what the hell all that had been about.

"I'll get us a drink," Kol announced and disappeared in the crowd.

Katerina suddenly felt overwhelmed by the situation. Why had nobody told her what _exactly _was her task tonight?

"Care?" she whispered, turning to her friend for support, but Caroline seemed to be quite occupied with herself. She looked deep in thought and stroked absent-mindedly over the flowing fabric of her skirt.

Rebekah fingered her beautiful silvery-blonde curls, looking around herself in an obviously bad mood. Katerina didn't know her well enough to tell why, truth be told she didn't know her at all, but clearly she disliked _not _being the centre of attention.

A couple of other guests trailed past, greeting the Mikaelsons respectfully. Elijah, as always, made the perfect impression of the family patron, knowing everyone by name, shaking hands and smiling his pleasant, self-assured, aristocratic mask of a smile. Somehow he even found the time to inform Katerina and Caroline briefly about whoever they were talking to. Rebekah gifted the more handsome men with a dazzling smile; Klaus looked sullen and absent-minded and if he did descend to greet someone, it was cold and short-spoken.

"Matthew Donovan, heir to his parents' paper mill up North," Elijah said quietly, while his sister chatted to the young blond man who'd clearly found her approval. Katerina couldn't help noticing how jealously both Elijah and Klaus eyed the two of them. Suddenly she felt slightly sorry for the rich girl for whom she usually held nothing but slight contempt and envy – Rebekah had everything, looks, talent, money, education. But right now, she wondered what it had to be like, growing up with two older brothers like them and, even worse, a mother like Mrs Mikaelson.

"Where's your brother gone to?" she heard Caroline ask in an almost… upbeat tone and Katerina could hardly resist the urge to turn around and stare when she heard Klaus actually _chuckle _and reply cheerily: "Well, I hope he's not inflicted his charms on some poor defenceless girl, because then he'll never return and I could really do with that drink."

Caroline laughed.

Katerina was not the only one who had noticed her friend's small victory; she caught Elijah and Rebekah sharing a surprised glance.

When nothing happened for another few painfully long minutes, Katerina decided to busy herself with admiring the beautiful crystal chandelier that flowed down from the high ceiling towards the floor in a cascade of tiny glass shards. It almost appeared to be in motion, painting millions of colourful little sparks all over the huge room.

"No need to look so nervous," a quiet voice near her ear remarked amusedly, making her jump. "All you'll have to do is dance a little, and I hear that you do extraordinarily. Apart from that, as sad as it is, my mother merely requires you to look gorgeous and I don't see how you could disappoint anyone in that regard."

She frowned and answered reluctantly: "I'll… take that as a compliment."

Elijah smiled. "Why, yes, it was a compliment."

Luckily, Kol returned with delicate champagne flutes filled with sparkling liquid before the situation could get even more awkward. She took one, throwing him a grateful smile.

"Alcohol, thank God," Klaus muttered, taking two glasses and handing one to Caroline with a conspiring smile. "Drink up, you'll need it."

Rebekah, alone again since Matthew Donovan had returned to his dancing partner, cast her brother a sideward glance. "What's got you all cheerful, Nik?" She grabbed Kol's hand and added loftily: "Come on, Mother asked us to dance, we might as well. This ball's boring me already."

Her oldest brother's eyes followed her with a displeased expression and he said, turning to his brother: "Quite right, we can't just stand here all night."

The next moment, Katerina felt herself follow him onto the dance floor, still feeling tense and nervous. Her hand in his felt strange, not exactly unpleasant, but yet she was oddly aware of his touch. She tried to concentrate on the dancing – luckily the band was playing a waltz, so she didn't have much opportunity to make a fool of herself.

"Please, you must ignore my sister. As much as I love her, I guess that when it all comes down, she is a spoiled little princess," he said abruptly, but despite his irritated tone, he couldn't quite hide the fond smile on his lips.

"Your mother doesn't look like the kind of person who spoils people."

"Why, no, she doesn't," he answered, sighing. "But I'm afraid Niklaus and I did a splendid job all by ourselves. I suppose to some extent, it is understandable. She was heartbroken when our oldest brother died…"

"You had an older brother?" she blurted out, regretting it immediately. "Sorry, I didn't want to be nosy-"

"Five years older than me," he cut her off with a mild smile. "His name was Finn, he and his wife were killed during the Blitz."

"I'm sorry," she muttered, avoiding his eye.

"It was a long time ago," he answered very quietly, but she didn't believe his  
>indifference for a second. "Anyway, Kol's the only one who's never had a… weak spot for Rebekah. And I…", he cleared his throat and adjusted his smile, "I honestly don't know why I'm boring you with all this, my apologies."<p>

Katerina didn't know any reply that would have been even halfway as eloquent and polite as his always were, so she just didn't say anything – though that was probably even ruder.

The band picked up a quicker tune and she hoped he'd give up the small talk to concentrate on his dancing, but sadly Elijah Mikaelson was far too good a dancer to get confused by a foxtrot.

"So, you've been at my mother's school for how many years, exactly?"

"Since I'm ten, so a little more than seven years," she replied quietly.

"That is a long time," he commented. "Don't you miss your family?"

"I used to miss them a lot when I was younger, especially my Mum. But I'd miss ballet more, I guess. And sometimes I see them during the holidays."

"Your family must be proud of your achievements." Katerina caught herself wondering whether he talked like that to people he was close to, too, and whether it wasn't exhausting to be this… formal all the time. She knew _she _wouldn't have been able to keep it up for longer than five minutes.

"They are, especially Mum. They never really expected me to do well, we're just an immigrant family after all," she answered.

"Your family comes from an Eastern country, I take it."

"My family's from Sofia. We left when Bulgaria entered the war. I was eight, I don't actually remember much. I mean, I remember Sofia a bit and our home and I still speak Bulgarian, but it's all a bit vague."

"Was it difficult learning English, if you don't mind me asking? I imagine it must be, with a mother tongue so different from it. My parents had us learn Russian, and it was hell," he said, still in his pleasant tone.

"You don't have to apologise for every single sentence," she replied, slightly annoyed for some reason. "It was easy enough for me, maybe because I was so young. And English is quite simple, really, the grammar's fairly easy to learn."

Caroline and Klaus passed them by, and when she glanced back at Elijah, she saw a surprised, almost hopeful look on his face.

"What is it with you and your brother?" she asked without thinking. When she realised whatshe had just said, she felt the strong urge to slap herself, but decided it was too late to take it back anyway, so she elaborated: "Whenever he shows the slightest hint of being _happy_, you look like God knows what had happened."

"Is it so surprising that I'd want my brother to be happy?"

_Well, he's not the kind of person you'd wish happiness so much. _Katerina grimaced and tried to put what she was thinking nicely, but there was no way. So she just shook her head.

"It's not, of course it's not. He's your brother."

"You're not a very good liar, Katerina," he said, still watching his brother. "I know what you mean, he's not the most… amiable person in the world. But he has his qualities, believe me. My brother is a very intelligent man and probably the bravest person I've ever met in my life, besides… there was a war raging all over the world a little more than five years ago, so you might want to adapt your idea of a decent person. Everyone in this room older than twenty-two is likely to be a murderer."

Katerina frowned, slightly taken aback. Who would have thought Elijah Mikaelson would be so cynical? "That includes you, Mr Mikaelson."

"It's Elijah, please, unless you'd like me to suffer a nervous breakdown," he said, then his voice turned very quiet and very tense. "And I never did exclude myself. I went to war, too, though I was at the front for less than two weeks. It still is enough to keep me from sleep at night, I fail to imagine what Niklaus must go through."

Her brain was having trouble keeping up with all the information. Suddenly a lot of things made sense – she'd heard of returned soldiers who were aggressive or depressive. Both fit on Niklaus Mikaelson. It also explained why his older brother was so weary around Klaus, watching him like a bomb that might go off any moment – because in a way that was what he was.

Desperate to change the topic – what had she been thinking to bring it up in the first place? – she grasped for the first straw she could find.

"You learned Russian?"

He grimaced, yet when he answered his tone was a little less tense. "Well, it's a far cry from perfect, but more or less acceptable. My French is much better, as is my German. I used to hate the lessons, but now I couldn't be more thankful for them. They spared me most of the war, I was ordered to handle communication with the other nations; apparently they believed I was more adept at talking than fighting."

Katerina couldn't suppress a little laugh – though she didn't doubt that Elijah was physically able to hurt people if he had to, he really did look like someone who would try to talk his way out of _anything. _

"What's so funny?" he demanded, something like a smile on his face, but smaller, less pompous, more…. _real. _

She felt her cheeks flush and she shook her head. "Nothing."

Another dance began and they took a moment to adjust to the new rhythm, which thankfully spared her any more questions.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

About an hour later, they were standing near the huge staircase leading up to the gallery and the private rooms of the Lockwoods. The champagne was starting to make her feel slightly dizzy. Klaus and Caroline stood a few feet away. A faint glow had appeared on Caroline's cheeks and Katerina was astonished to see how quickly her friend's anxiousness had disappeared. She couldn't help thinking that Caroline, too, seemed to fit into this place more and more.

Katerina had started a tentative chat with Rebekah Mikaelson, discussing their upcoming performance of Tchaikovsky's _Swan Lake, _when suddenly the chatter in the ball room broke off for a moment and several heads turned towards the gallery.

Tyler Lockwood had appeared on the landing, looking rather dishevelled. He was clearly drunk, but he made his way down the stairs towards Klaus and Caroline admirably quickly.

"Wait here. Trust me, the clearer you stay of the two of them, the better," Elijah muttered, looking worried, and hurried to his brother's side where he whispered intently into his ear. Caroline joined Katerina.

"Care, what's going on?"

Caroline glanced from Elijah and Klaus to Tyler and back to Katerina, then seemed to make a decision and replied quietly: "Look, last year there was a dreadful accident and the Mayor's wife-"

"What do you mean, an accident?" Katerina interrupted, frowning.

Caroline sighed, throwing yet another glance towards the Mikaelson brothers. Katerina followed her look to see that Tyler Lockwood had reached them.

"That you even dare to turn up here-" Tyler growled, starting towards Klaus.

"Tyler please, whatever business it is that you have with my brother-" Elijah began, slowly stepping in front of his younger brother.

"You know exactly what," Lockwood hissed, scowling at Elijah instead.

Katerina couldn't help admiring the eldest Mikaelson – he didn't even flinch, just went on in his calm tone: "Again, please, be civil, you know the importance this dance has for your father."

"I don't _care _about my father," Lockwood snarled, taking another step towards them. "There's another thing we have in common, isn't that right, Elijah?"

Caroline watched them, then very quietly started to talk without taking her eyes off them.

"Carol – Carol Lockwood had some kind of argument with Klaus in her husband's study, I honestly don't know what it was about. I told Elijah he'd been gone for ages and we went looking for him. We got to the study the exact moment Tyler did. When we got inside, Carol was dead. She must have tripped over the carpet, anyway, she hit her head on the edge of the desk and apparently, she cracked her skull and then she was dead, just like that." Caroline looked shaken even by the memory. "Klaus looked a mess, he was white as a sheet and shaking like mad, he didn't even seem to hear us. And Tyler, he just lost it, he went for Klaus, yelling he'd pushed her and that is was his fault." Caroline drew a shuddering breath. "It was awful, I really thought Tyler was going to kill him and Klaus – I don't think he had any idea where he even was, he was looking right through him. I don't know what would've happened if Elijah hadn't stepped between them…"

"_Did_ Klaus have something to do with it?"

The blonde stroked a stray curl behind her ear, her blue eyes oddly wide. "No. Of course not."

_He had something to do with it, _Katerina thought, wondering why she wasn't even surprised. The only thing that shocked her was that Caroline – who had never kept a secret in her life – was lying for him.

"I can't believe you never told me that," Katerina hissed, staring at her friend in disbelief. "I thought we were friends, the times we've asked you what the hell happened last year and you never said a word-"

"Elijah made me swear I wouldn't say anything, I'm sorry, Kat. But I promised."

"Why would he make you promise that if Klaus had nothing to do with it?" Katerina asked angrily, glancing at the Mikaelson brothers that were arguing with Tyler Lockwood – that was to say, Tyler was seconds away from starting towards Klaus who stared back stonily and didn't say a word. Elijah stood between them, trying to reason with the Mayor's son, not very successfully so by the looks of it.

She felt a sudden rush of disappointment. She'd _believed_ him, damn it, his whole act of morality. And all the while, he'd been covering up a murder.

"Because everyone would _want _to believe that he had something to do with it," Caroline answered, her eyes shimmering with tears. "It's the sort of thing you'd expect of him, and it wasn't his fault. It wasn't, Kat, believe me, if you'd just seen him – even if he _did _push her, he had no idea what he was doing."

Katerina just shook her head at her friend and turned away in time to see Tyler Lockwood aiming a punch at Klaus. Elijah tried to stop him but was too slow; Klaus, however, caught his fist and gave it a quick, brutal turn that might have dislocated his shoulder. Lockwood groaned in pain, but managed to wrench his hand free from the older man's grip and lunged himself at him again. He wasn't half as good a fighter as Klaus was, but he was strong and fairly fast. His fist made contact with Klaus's jaw. The next second, Elijah was by his side, pulling Tyler away from his little brother.

Katerina couldn't believe the other guests were just standing by, even Kol didn't move. Rebekah, however, jerked her arm free from her little brother's grip and hurried over to Klaus and Elijah, looking angry and scared.

"Stop it, for Heaven's sake, what are you doing?" she yelled, pulling Klaus backwards, away from Tyler who was still trying to wriggle free from Elijah's grip.

"Where's the mayor?" Katerina whispered hotly, looking around them. "Why's nobody doing anything?"

Caroline gave a helpless shrug, eying the scene in front of them.

"The Lockwood's rooms are upstairs?" Katerina demanded and Caroline nodded.

"Kat, guests aren't allowed up there-" she said, but Katerina was already running up the staircase, holding up her skirt so she wouldn't trip over it – though she was fairly sure she'd fall flat on her face before she'd reached the top of the stairs anyway. She wanted her dancing shoes back more than ever.

She hammered against the first door she found, when no response came, she turned to the next until finally, the Mayor opened, his hair looked ruffled and there was burgundy lipstick smeared across his jaw. Katerina didn't really need the sight of the halfway undressed woman sitting on the desk to understand what was going on. He stared at her in disbelief, visibly torn between his confusion that she was there in the first place and the embarrassment that she'd caught him in the act.

"Ah, Miss, er… you're Mr Mikaelson's dancing partner, right?"

Katerina tried to catch her breath and answered in a tone that couldn't be called anything other than rude:

"Yes, I am; there's a problem with your son and you have to come down _right now."_

"A… a problem with my son?" the Mayor stuttered, staring at her.

"Yes! We need your help. Tyler's having a row with Niklaus Mikaelson," she informed him and stormed back down the stairs.

"Tyler, what is going on here?" he boomed, and half the room flinched. Elijah looked up at Katerina, something like surprise in his eyes.

She returned to Caroline and watched as the Mayor approached the little group. Elijah cautiously let go of the Mayor's son while Rebekah dragged her brother back another few feet to put some more distance between them. The Mayor started talking to both of them, but it was Elijah who answered while his brother stood by motionlessly.

Caroline sighed. "Thank you, Kat."

"I didn't do it for you, Caroline," she answered coolly, watching the Mikaelsons, especially Kol. He just stood by, so far away that he couldn't possibly be seen as a part of this family. She had the strong impression that he wanted nothing to do with his three older siblings.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"Well, I am sorry you had to witness this. I'm afraid things like that have the tendency to follow in my brother's wake."

"Yes, I heard," she gave back, a little shocked at how cold her voice was.

"I'm sorry?" he replied smoothly, handing her another glass of champagne.

"Caroline couldn't really keep her little secret from me anymore given the situation."

"Ah," he muttered, a small, regretful smile on his lips. "The demise of Carol Lockwood. A tragic loss, she was a wonderful woman."

"Yes, you sound very touched indeed."

"I am. I liked her," he answered quietly. "But you have to believe me, her death was a dreadful accident."

"So if it was an accident, why did Caroline have to keep her mouth shut?" she demanded, clutching her glass. "Though I'm impressed that you _could _shut her up."

He chuckled. "And I am impressed that she didn't tell anyone. I must admit I expected she would." Elijah sighed and emptied his own glass.

"You must not judge my brother, Katerina – he has seen horrors that you could not even begin to imagine. He was there when the Allies landed in Normandy; he fought countless battles in those two years." He looked at her and seemed to understand that she wasn't convinced.

"I… I remember how I prayed and bargained and begged for him to survive and come back, and sometimes I wonder if this isn't some cruel joke of the universe. Something became of my brother, something terrible, and every once in a while I'm not sure whether he really can still be saved. But what sort of brother would I be if I turned my back on him when he needs me most?" His voice had gone very quiet; she could hardly understand what he was saying.

There was some deep, raw emotion in his eyes, one that she couldn't quite place. Love maybe, or sadness. Hope. Desperation. She couldn't tell.

Then he forced a smile on his lips, one that didn't look very real to her.

"Well, I must not lose hope," he replied in a more upbeat tone. "After all, I might be the only one who hasn't given up on him yet."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Katerina muttered, glancing at Caroline who was dancing again, an ever so slight smile on her face. Klaus was talking to her, and his eyes looked more alive and warm than she had ever thought possible.

Elijah sighed. "In that case, I hope Miss Forbes knows what she is getting herself into."

Katerina shook her head. "Why do you believe him to be deserving of so much forgiveness? Even though you think he is such a danger to the rest of the world."

"Oh, he's a danger to me as well," he answered calmly. "But no matter what happens, no matter what he does – he will always be my brother."

She nodded slowly, trying to make sense of the man in front of her.

"Even if he kills people," she whispered.

He pierced her with a solemn look, then bowed his head slightly. "No matter what he does. There is nothing I value higher than my family."

"Your morals are a little twisted," she remarked, smiling against her will.

Elijah raised a brow at her reaction. "Yes, I suppose they are. Would you do me the honour of another dance or shall I let you be?"

"No. I have no idea what I should do, standing around here all alone," she replied.

He almost returned her smile.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

Where the ballroom had been splendid and pompous, the garden outside was quiet and of a more subtle beauty. The hedges were neatly trimmed and there were roses of all sorts of colours. There were hundreds of little lanterns scattered across the garden.

The stars gleamed like tiny pearls scattered on black velvet and the moon was nothing but a thin white line on the horizon.

She was freezing in her dress, but she didn't actually care. It was beautiful.

"You know, I think I'm actually glad to be here," she said quietly. "It's...it's an honour."

He just smiled. "The honour's all mine, Miss Petrova."

Katerina felt herself blush, a shade of burgundy matching her dress going by the heat level. She stared at the gravel underneath her shoes and tried to hide her smile.

* * *

><p><em><strong>*Author's Note* <strong>_

Early update because I don't have much access to the internet next week.

So… a lot of information. Not too much, I hope… Heavy focus on the relationship of Elijah and Klaus. What can I say, I watched a few episodes of The Originals and was more and more intrigued by their fantastic dynamics. It took me a long time to figure out how I could make this relationship work in an All-Human AU, and actually I chose the whole epoch because that way I could give Klaus PTSD.

I hope you enjoyed the interaction between Elijah and Katerina, I put a lot of effort in writing their scenes. Hope it doesn't seem rushed to you, but they _did _have instant chemistry from what we know from the show, so I didn't want that much build-up there.

Oh, and then there's Tyler – please let me have your opinion on Tyler! I'm really insecure about writing him, but I think he turned out okay. More or less.

I put a lot of thought into the dresses, people – Katerina wore a burgundy dress when she met Elijah, Caroline's dress is obviously from the Original's ball and Rebekah wore a gorgeous green dress at that ball that I loved to bits and pieces.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three – September 1950**

Katerina woke with the strangest of feelings and a dream she couldn't quite remember. The dormitory was still dark, the sun had not yet risen. The alarm clock on her drawer read four fifteen, meaning she'd had little more than an hour of sleep.

The champagne was starting to give her a headache, but that was not what had woken her. She was shivering with cold and the sheets clung to her skin.

Katerina sighed and stared at the ceiling in the dark, pondering her dream that was slipping away from her and becoming clearer and blurrier and clearer again… There had been Carol Lockwood, Elijah had pointed her out to Katerina on a framed photograph in the Lockwood's mansion. She had watched her die… had watched Klaus and her fight, about the death of Finn Mikaelson, about a battle in France and an English interpreter...

Carol had pushed Klaus twice… and suddenly something in him had seemed to snap. He'd grabbed the Mayor's wife at both shoulders, his eyes a little glassy, and slammed her backwards on the oak desk. Lacking a better word, she would say he'd looked – terrified. An ugly, loud crack had filled the room, then the door had opened and Caroline, Tyler and Elijah had burst in the moment Carol Lockwood's limb body slid to the floor.

Katerina shuddered. Suddenly the images were back, sharp and clear and real as a memory, and her blood ran cold at how vivid they were. She could feel the draft from the door and the polished wood of the desk, taste the thick musty air in the study, hear Klaus's shallow, irregular breathing and the dreadful sound of Mrs Lockwood's head cracking open. She couldn't for the life of her say whether or not her dream had gone on from there, but the moment of Carol Lockwood's death was just as present to her as the dark dormitory and Caroline's and Bonnie's quiet breathing, even though she knew it was nothing but a product of her all too vivid imagination.

Shivering, she pulled the sheets closer around her and before she knew it, she'd gone back to sleep.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

When her alarm clock finally disrupted the darkness at five thirty sharp, she was feeling slightly dizzy and completely exhausted, but at the same time she was… happy, a strangely detached, sentimental kind of happiness and she just couldn't explain where that was coming from. She remembered some creepy dream she'd had during the night, but couldn't recall what it had been about.

Bonnie started firing questions at her and Caroline in turn before they'd even got out of bed, but none of them was in the mood to answer. They dressed and went down to breakfast in silence where Katerina's mind returned more than once to where the burgundy dress still hung in their wardrobe. Her friend, too, looked absent-minded, but there was an ever so slight smile on her face that Katerina could only guess was mirroring on her own.

"Seriously though, Kat," Bonnie said, snatching the coffee before Katerina could reach it. "I won't have all that silence like last year. Come on, how was it?"

"May I have the coffee, please?" Katerina asked in a strained voice.

"Not until you answer my question."

"Bonnie Bennettt, I've slept for roughly two hours, keeping the caffeine from me is nothing but blackmail," she gave back, motioning for the coffee pot.

"Not my fault that you came back at three in the morning." Bonnie pierced both of them with a sharp gaze. "Tell me. Come on, girls, tell me _something._"

"It was nice," Katerina gave back flatly. "Coffee, Bon. _Now._"

"Hilarious," she replied and handed the coffee pot over. "Details?"

"Well, it _was _nice," Caroline answered in a pained voice. "We danced, we had champagne, we… um, we met the Mayor."

Katerina threw her a look and she grinned back at her.

"That's _all _you have to say to that?"

"Yes, Bonnie. We're not all as talkative as you are, especially not with a severe lack of sleep."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

She got through the next weeks in a blur of training, lessons and conversations that she couldn't remember minutes after she'd had them. Her mind kept wandering off; even dancing couldn't quite ground her, though she got to stand in the first row in all of her scenes.

Mrs Mikaelson had given the role of Odette to Rebekah and had asked Caroline to dance Odile – well, in their world that meant she would be dancing Odile, because no girl at the Mikaelson Ballet School refused a role that was offered to her, least of all a lead role.

Katerina couldn't stop shaking her head at the thought – who in the name of Heaven would make _Caroline, _innocent, sweet, wonderful Caroline, dance the black swan? Sure, she did look like a beautiful, terrible archangel in the black costume, and Rebekah seemed to positively glow in the white one.

But still, she couldn't help wondering whether that wasn't some kind of bad omen.

* * *

><p>"What is that, mother?" He waved the stiff white card. "We were <em>never <em>invited."

"This is your sister's first big role," his mother gave back without looking up from her needlework.

"No, it's not. She's had one last term and the one before. She wouldn't stop talking about it all for _weeks _and kept complaining we hadn't been there, and you said we wouldn't have appreciated it anyway."

"You wouldn't have."

"Oh, and now all of sudden we would?" It was absurd. He knew _he _was acting absurd, but if his mother changed her behaviour, he knew he had better find out what she was plotting. Esther Mikaelson did nothing without a reason. And somehow, those reasons tended to end badly either for Niklaus or himself.

"Well, I should expect you were all old enough to behave at a ballet performance now."

"So this is about Kol?" he gave back, brows raised, and in his mind added a _we both know it isn't. _

"Elijah, had I known you would throw such a tantrum I would have never invited any of you in the first place. I just thought you would all enjoy seeing your sister dance-"

_Kol wouldn't-_

"and besides, Kol told me you and Niklaus were both quite smitten with your dancing partners-"

_Why, thanks a lot, brother dearest-_

"I believed it would be nice, being there to watch Rebekah. Together."

_Without Finn, Sage and our abusive father, you mean, and your third-oldest sitting at the far end of the room so you wouldn't have to see him-_

"As a family."

_As if we had been a family for the last nine years, mother._

"Of course. I for my part would love to see her dance, I was merely under the impression that you didn't want us there."

His mother threw him a scandalised look and said, her voice shaking slightly:

"How could I not want my sons to be by my side when I present the results of my work to the public?"

For a moment he could have sworn he'd seen tears of disappointment shimmer in her eyes, and he almost believed her.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

As October drew closer, he thought of her, from time to time. She'd be there, so he would see her, too, would he not?

He spent the workdays at the university in London and returned home on Friday where his sweet little sister would come outside and hug him on the stairs as if he'd been gone for months. And that would always remain the best part of his weekend stays, since things tended to go downhill from there on. There was Niklaus, either gone out or locked in his room; his mother, bossing everyone around, full of reproachful looks and accusing little side remarks and the house with all the empty rooms.

His mother and Rebekah soon had no other topic than their upcoming performance.

Caroline Forbes would dance Odile – Odile of all the roles, what was his mother thinking? – and Elijah knew that was the only reason Niklaus had agreed to come in the first place. When Elijah was "smitten" with Katerina, as his mother had so despicably put it, then his brother was completely infatuated with Caroline. He didn't tell Elijah, he didn't tell anyone – he didn't actually _talk _to anyone, to be precise; but Elijah knew it anyway. He caught his absent looks, different from the blank stares that Niklaus had brought home from war.

No, when he thought of Caroline there was life in his blue eyes and the faintest ghost of a smile on his lips.

It was next to nothing, and yet it was more than Elijah had dared to hope for since the tragedy at the Lockwood's.

October came and he thought of her, a little more every day. It made him smile, remembering her insolent questions and her tentative smiles, her excellent dancing. And God knew he could do with a happy thought every now and then.

He didn't tell anyone about it, but he caught Niklaus's understanding smirk one Sunday morning across the breakfast table and he wondered whether he'd gained an accomplice in all this mess.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"Go and pick up your sister from school, Elijah, would you?"

Esther wore an exquisite woollen dress and a long pearl necklace. Her wedding band glistened in the lamplight and Elijah felt the familiar jolt of frustration at the sight of it. His father had died almost five years ago, yet she refused to take the ring off.

"What, from school?" he inquired irritably and glanced down at his half-finished essay. "It is less than a mile, she could just _walk._"

His mother threw him an appalled look. "You would have your little sister walk through the forest in the dark all on her own?"

_What do you think could happen to her on our own property? Werewolves? _he thought bitterly and slammed his book shut with a small sigh.

"I would never let any harm come upon Rebekah, mother, you know that."

She ignored both his reply and his irritable tone. "The Fells are coming for dinner at seven; I want Rebekah to be here in time. I don't suppose I can expect Niklaus to come-"

"And I don't suppose you would want him there anyway," he cut her off very quietly. "I'll take the car, then."

"Will you join us at the table, Elijah?"

He didn't turn back around so she wouldn't see how angry he was – he couldn't _believe _she had not even tried to deny she couldn't care less about her third-eldest being constantly absent.

"I think I'd better finish my essay," he replied stiffly and left the library.

The black Bentley had been his father's pride and joy, but Elijah didn't have all that much affection to spare for it. He was not a fan of cars to begin with, and especially not this one. Where his father had seemed to have driven it smoothly from the first second, he had struggled to drive the cursed thing for over three months before he had considered it save enough to take his family along. Even the short distance from their home to the school was a nuisance – Elijah wished he could have walked, but then Rebekah wouldn't make it in time for the dinner.

The school was situated in an old manor. On first glance, it was a splendid sight, but the building was old and had been empty for a long time before his father had bought it. There was white paint peeling off the window frames, the ivy had done some serious damage to the façade and chips of stone had broken off from the stairs. Some of the outdated windows didn't keep out the draft anymore and due to the old electricity, the power regularly went off. The good thing about his mother's school certainly was not the comfort of the students – it was the dancing. Most of the money was spent on the teachers' wages.

Elijah sighed, put his hands down his coat pockets and stepped through the tall door, once again feeling slightly relieved the school was reserved for girls – he wouldn't have liked to spend his childhood here.

The entrance hall was deserted and Elijah's heart sank. He'd hoped his sister would wait for him here. When he walked down the corridor, feeling a little lost, a group of younger students passed him by, whispering to each other and staring after him. Men in general were not exactly a common sight at the school. He continued down the long passage, staring at the black and white tiles on the floor and trying to remember the way to the dormitories. Within minutes, he was completely lost.

"Elijah?"

He stopped when he heard the familiar voice and felt a relieved smile creep on his lips when he spotted Caroline at the far end of the corridor.

"Miss Forbes, thank God. I was starting to think I'd never get out of here again."

"It's Caroline." The blonde grinned. "There's only the kitchen down there. Guess that's not where you wanted to go."

"Well, no, it really wasn't. I'm looking for my sister," he replied with an apologetic smile. "You wouldn't happen to know where she is?"

"Probably in her dorm," Caroline answered with a shrug. "I'll take you."

"Thank you." He followed the young woman, thinking it was odd how different she looked. But then again, he'd only seen her four times so far – twice at the reunion for the dance, twice at the Lockwood's dance itself. At the reunion, she'd worn the festive version of her school uniform – basically the same as the everyday one, only with a stiffer skirt and a tie. He supposed it was the hair, he hadn't seen her in that trademark ballerina bun before. _Niklaus would hate the hairdo, _he thought fleetingly, then wondered where that ridiculous thought had come from.

"So, a lot of training for the performance, I would imagine," he said conversationally, just to fill the silence.

"Yes, of course. Extra lessons with your mother and your sister, and the guy who'll dance Siegfried, I keep forgetting his name," Caroline replied with a chuckle. "It's weird, right? I mean I'm supposed to _seduce _him, and I just can't keep his name."

He smiled. "Well, you don't actually have to seduce him, so in the end, it won't matter."

"Oh, I know that. I'm glad I don't _actually _have to seduce him." She rolled her eyes and pushed a door open. "He's boring. I mean, he's a brilliant dancer, flawless, but well… you can't talk to him for longer than two minutes without going completely insane."

The comment made him laugh – however he couldn't help worrying about the intelligent blonde. She had been able to converse with his brother for far more than two minutes, after all, and as happy as he was for him to have someone, _anyone_, who genuinely liked him, Niklaus was a danger.

And Elijah was starting to like Caroline.

"Odile is a great role. You got very lucky."

"Oh, come one," she replied with a little scoff, "we both know Rebekah would have been much more convincing." Suddenly she paled and added hastily: "That… that doesn't mean that Rebekah's evil or anything, I just meant that… well, I'm not a good actress and…"

"I wondered about that too," he cut her off to keep her from apologising even more. "But I don't see why my mother would give out the roles the way she has if not to challenge you. There is nothing more important to her than her performances. She would never try something if she wasn't perfectly certain it would all work out."

Caroline gave a small sigh and opened another door. "You're probably right. Maybe it's just nerves, I've never been in anything this big before."

"Mother thinks highly of you, therefore you can't be anything but excellent."

She shook her head, smiling, but didn't reply and led him up a staircase. They arrived in a vast room lined with desks where the girls sat doing their homework or chatting to each other. He tried to make out his sister but couldn't find her anywhere.

"April, you seen Rebekah?" Caroline asked, turning to a petite dark-haired girl. From what he could glimpse she was busy doing maths.

"In the bedroom," she answered slowly and added with a glance towards Elijah: "She said she had to be home at eight."

"Seven," he answered, offering her a little smile. "The dinner's at seven."

"I'll go get her," Caroline said and disappeared through another door.

The dark-haired quickly returned to her graphs. He felt oddly alone, standing there by the door with all the girls avoiding his eyes. They probably thought he was some kind of spy for his mother.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

He froze for a moment, then turned around slowly, supressing a smile. He couldn't for the life of him let her see that he was glad to meet her; he didn't know why, he just couldn't.

"A very good evening to you, too, Katerina."

She rolled her eyes, visibly annoyed by his chastising, and he fought down another smile.

"I'm to pick up Rebekah, but apparently, she's forgotten all about me."

"Oh, really? Poor you," she gave back with a faint smirk and only a tad of sarcasm in her voice.

"Oh, it's really not the first time," he replied. "I daresay I'm more of a nanny to my siblings than a brother."

She laughed and pushed a stray curl out of her eyes that had escaped the tight bun.

"Well, I must be keeping you from your homework," he said with a faint grin. "How rude of me."

Katerina groaned and leaned back against the wall. "Oh God, don't remind me. You are so lucky to be over it all."

"By no means, I have a twenty page-long essay to write until Monday."

She grinned. "And here I am, complaining about five pages for English class."

"University did quite humble me, too, yes. You don't seem to enjoy your lessons very much."

"There's no point in maths and physics, history is boring, biology doesn't interest me at all and don't get me started on English."

"Why not? I always liked it."

"I hate reading," she replied with a shrug and a defiant smile. "I'm here for the dancing, really."

"Perhaps you're looking into the wrong topics," he said softly. "I admit there is little of interest in a school book."

She scoffed and answered: "I don't think there is a book I would enjoy."

"I could find one." He didn't know what made him say that, he felt reckless even as he did, and he just couldn't get that smile off his face.

A spark lit up in her chocolate-coloured eyes. She crossed her arms and shot back: "What are we betting?"

That made him laugh. He shook his head at the young girl; suddenly realising he'd mirrored her position. "Make an offer."

Well, now he was feeling _really _reckless.

"A bar of chocolate," came the immediate response, served with a challenging smile.

_A small price, _he thought, but then he started wondering whether Katerina had ever had much access to such a luxury item – her family did not seem to have money for such things.

"Fine. But whatever I pick, you'll have to read it all the way through."

"Less than a thousand pages," she bargained.

"Good."

She held his gaze for a moment – a moment too long, perhaps. "Deal. But I assure you, you won't find anything."

"Finding a book for such an intelligent young woman is not that much of a problem," he said with a small smile and she laughed, even blushed a little.

"All those compliments, did you take _lessons_ when you were a kid?"

"Not exactly lessons," he replied with a shrug and a small smile. "But you have to remember that I wasn't born into a world of war. Other ideals, people weren't quite so pragmatic and outspoken."

"_Born into a world of war,_" she repeated with a sardonic touch to her voice. "You really do read a lot, don't you?"

"If the alternative was spending time with my parents, you would take to reading, too," he answered without thinking. A second later, he was downright shocked about what he had just said. Something about this girl made him dangerously careless.

"She doesn't seem –"

"Sorry, Elijah," came a voice from behind him. He flinched for no actual reason and spun around. Rebekah stood behind him, Caroline a few feet behind her. "I really thought the dinner would start at eight, I-"

"It's fine, Bekah," he muttered and threw her a smile that felt slightly strange on his lips. "Come on, Mother'll be upset if you're late." He threw a look over his shoulder at the blond girl. "Thanks a lot for your help, Caroline. Katerina," he added, hesitating a little to look her in the eyes. For a reason he couldn't quite fathom, he even felt a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Goodbye," she said quietly, glancing down at her shoes, too.

"Good luck for your performance," he added, feeling like he should say something else.

"Thanks," Caroline replied with a grin, Katerina just smiled for a moment but said nothing.

He put a hand on his little sister's shoulder and directed her out of the dormitory; from there on she had to lead the way – he would never understand the architecture of this goddamned school.

On the short drive back, Rebekah chattered on and on about how she'd mistaken the time and how she didn't want to go to that dinner anyway, but he couldn't quite bring himself to listen. His mind was on their private library and all those books he'd read during the years.

Their mother greeted them on the steps with a disgruntled look on her beautiful face. "You don't really mean to attend dinner with _that _hairdo, Rebekah dear, do you?"

She said things like that countless times every day. The only thing remarkable was that for the first time, he didn't feel the urge to scream.

* * *

><p><em><strong>*Author's Note* <strong>_First of all, thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews! To those who asked for more Klaroline - there will be some in the later chapters, however they are supporting characters and therefore the main focus lies on Katarina and Elijah.

I am doing my very best to do everything as historically accurate as I could. I am very interested in history, but I'm by no means an expert and at school we only learned about my country's view of the war.

I did my research – okay, yes, on Wikipedia, but I did – and Bentley had a new model that came out early in 1946, so Mikael would have been proud of it. Brand new model and probably bloody expensive. I'm not so sure about how much driving routine a young upper-class man would have in the early 1950's, but since Elijah grew up on the countryside and spent almost two years at war, I guess if he doesn't have all that much experience it's not completely illogical.

The story behind the swan lake-thing in the really, _really _abridged version: there's Odette who was turned into a swan by an evil wizard and Siegfried, a prince who falls in love with her. The wizard sends Odile (in some versions she's his daughter, in some she is Odette's evil twin) to seduce Siegfried. There are various endings, in some Siegfried, Odette and the wizard all die, in some the two lovers live happily ever after, in some Siegfried dies and Odette remains a swan.  
>Usually, Odette and Odile are danced by the same dancer, but as Mrs Mikaelson's students are not of age, she would probably consider that a little too exhausting or as putting too much pressure on just one of her girls. Plus, Rebekah and Caroline look pretty much alike, so from a little distance they might pass off as twins anyway ;)<p>

By now you might have noticed I'm not painting the nicest possible image of Kol – sorry if you like him, but I did need a few "mean" characters – elsewise I'd only have Mikael and he died four years prior to the beginning of the story so he's not much use in that department…

Please be so kind and write a little review!


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four – October 1950**

"And five, six, seven, eight," came Mrs Mikaelson's relentless voice and Katerina groaned internally. Her arms ached, her feet hurt, she had a headache and her legs were burning.

"_Katerina,_" Mrs Mikaelson called. "Raise your arm!"

She clenched her teeth and lifted her right arm, every muscle stinging.

"And you're supposed to smile, girls," the headmistress barked as the piano player stopped the music. "We'll do that again."

Katerina shared a pained glance with Bonnie and gave April Young, who was looking downright distraught, an encouraging pat on the shoulder. They were training for over two hours now.

"Five, six, seven, eight-"

Less than a minute later, Mrs Mikaelson broke off again.

"Ladies, you are supposed to be dancing in perfect synchrony. Is this what you call synchrony?"

Katerina felt about ready to collapse on the floor, April looked like she was about to cry and even ever-fighting stubborn Hayley Marshall seemed prepared to give up.

"One more time."

Sometimes she wondered whether Mrs Mikaelson made them angry on purpose, just to keep them going.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

When Mrs Mikaelson finally let them go, Katerina seriously started wondering whether she even had the strength to climb the stair to the first floor where they were sleeping. They got ready for bed without a word, too tired even for the slightest hint of communication.

Caroline was already asleep when she and Bonnie finally entered the bedroom. She'd had training with Rebekah, the prince's and the wizard's dancers with their second ballet teacher Miranda Sommers. With the performance less than two weeks away, the lead dancers were spending almost every waking moment dancing – Caroline and Rebekah had even been freed of a few lessons and all their homework for it.

Katerina crawled underneath the sheets, feeling as if there was lead in her feet and hands – and almost jumped out of bed again when her head hit something solid instead of the welcome softness of the pillow.

"Kat, what are you doing?" whispered Bonnie, but Katerina's fingers had already found the object that had given her such a fright and she smiled against her will.

"Nothing," she replied equally quiet, groping for her torch in her bedside drawer, her other hand still firmly closed around the canvas of the cover.

In the dim light of her cheap torch, the book looked even more battered and faded than it probably was, and she almost laughed when she read the title. She would have certainly never chosen _this one._

But well, she had promised to give it a try.

"Put that light out," Bonnie hissed, pulling her pillow over her head. Katerina chuckled and switched off the torch.

The book was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes the next morning, and despite the prospect of double maths with John Gilbert, arguably the most remorseless teacher she'd ever had, followed by another long training, her spirit lifted.

_The most enthralling book I could find – to make sure you would not put it down halfway through._

Katerina couldn't help rolling her eyes at the note that stuck between the pages. He really always _had_ to have the last word, did he not?

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

Despite her long days and the heap of homework and lessons and training, despite her nights being short as it was – Katerina started reading. Because she had made a promise. And because she was proud – the next time she met Elijah Mikaelson, she would have read enough of that book to make an impression, and if she had to sacrifice all her sleep to it.

Or at least that was her reason to start the book.

But, by the time she'd reached the fourth chapter, Katerina couldn't deny she was somehow _enjoying _reading it. This was a new experience for her and anyway she hated to admit it, because it meant that he had won; that he had outsmarted her.

It wasn't about the lost bet, not really – it was just that she hated to see his schoolmasterly behaviour justified.

Besides, now she was facing a practical problem: where the hell was she going to get chocolate?

"Since when do you _read, _Kat?" Caroline demanded, frowning down at Katerina.

"This might shock you, Care, but I actually _can _read," she gave back without looking up.

"Yes, but you never do." Caroline bent down to pick something off the floor. She'd unfolded the note before Katerina had realised what it was -

"Well, well, that would explain it," she muttered with a smirk.

Katerina froze, then put the book down and sat up straight. "What would explain what?"

"Oh, I just mean that, you know, for Elijah Mikaelson you might even read a book."

Sighing internally, Katerina looked at her. She shouldn't feel compelled to threaten Caroline; after all, she had been her best friend for years now. But she _couldn't_ let anyone know about her feelings – because if someone knew, that would make them real. And she didn't know if she could deal with that.

"And you really think I'd believe that you would take walks all by yourself in your free time, Care?"

Caroline stared at her for a moment, then blushed furiously and finally, a smile fought on her lips. "Never said I didn't have my own secrets. I'm just curious. Why a book?"

Chuckling, Katerina dropped back on her bed and shrugged; glad the tension between them was gone. "It's a bet. Told him I hated reading, and he said he'd find me a book I'd like."

Caroline picked up the book, giggling, too. "…interesting choice."

"I know, right? But it's actually not half bad."

"Looks like you lost your bet, then."

"Yes, looks like it. Do I want to know what you do on these walks, Care?"

Caroline raised a brow at her and replied smoothly: "Talking, Kat. I'm a good girl."

"Talking. Right, of course." Katerina shook her head, still chuckling. "You and Klaus Mikaelson disappear to the forest every odd week to _talk._"

"It's true. Honestly." She didn't believe her for a second. "And, as much as that might surprise _you, _he's a really… interesting man. He knows an awful lot and, well, the things he's seen-"

"I heard, yes…" Katerina sighed and looked up at her friend. "Listen, Care, you be- you be careful, alright? I know you like him, and I know his brother is hell-bent on believing that he is a good man but, he- there's something wrong with him."

"He's been to war, Kat. It's haunting him. He's traumatised and jumpy and a little paranoid. That doesn't make him a bad man."

"I know that," she interrupted. "But you know what happened to Carol Lockwood; and I honestly doubt that Mrs Mikaelson's husband dropped dead on his own accord less than a year after his son returned home."

Caroline looked at her with a pained smile. "Kat-"

"All I'm saying is: be careful."

She looked at her with her big cornflower eyes, then answered: "You know me. I'm always careful."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

The day of the performance came sooner than any of them would have liked.

"Oh God. I won't make it. I'll ruin everything," Caroline whispered, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. Her black tutu was still open at the back, her shoes weren't tied and the mask she was supposed to be wearing was still lying next to her on the chair.

"Rubbish, of course you won't," Bonnie replied cheerfully while she helped Katerina with her costume. "You'll be brilliant."

"I'll trip over my own feet and fall flat on my face and everyone will laugh at me," Caroline insisted faintly.

"Nonsense, no one's going to laugh," came a voice from behind them. Rebekah looked gorgeous, her hair braided and pinned up; a beautiful silver mask glittering over her eyes. But her face was as pale as her costume and when she bent down to tie her shoes, Katerina saw her fingers shaking.

"Nobody will laugh at you, Caroline, because I will do something far worse before you have any opportunity to mess up."

"Oh for Heaven's sake," snapped Hayley who was fumbling with her shoes, too. "You are the best dancers of this goddamned school and if anyone screws it up then it won't be either of you."

"Please stop fighting," April Young said faintly. "We're _all_ nervous."

Rebekah looked at the younger girl and sighed. "You're probably right. We'll make it. And even if we don't, there's only half the town and my entire family here to see it…"

"Your… your family is here?" Caroline asked and looked down at Rebekah, looking even paler than before. "All of them?"

"Yes, even Nik," Rebekah answered with a grimace. "I've never been this nervous."

Caroline shared an anxious glance with Katerina and replied softly: "Me neither."

Katerina swallowed heavily and busied herself with tying Caroline's costume.

"Is your family coming?"

"My grandma," Bonnie answered, wrenching a last pin into her bun.

"My foster parents promised, but that doesn't mean much," Hayley said. Katerina threw her a look and felt an unusual rush of sympathy for the beautiful brunette – Hayley, like Katerina herself, had spent all the past few holidays at school instead of going home.

"Mine won't come either. It's too far away," Katerina replied quietly.

"My mum promised she'd come. If the work's not keeping her… you know what she's like." Caroline sighed and tied the satin band of her mask behind her head. Now she really looked like Rebekah's dark twin – the exact same hairdo, the same make-up; the same mask, only where Rebekah's was of a silvery white, Caroline's was jet black.

"Ready," she said softly, staring into the mirror. She didn't sound very convinced.

"Five minutes, girls," called Isobel Fleming, striding into the room in a stunning black dress. As the school couldn't afford hiring another male dancer, their teacher was going to dance the role of the wizard herself.

"Katerina, Bonnie, why the hell aren't you wearing your masks? _Four minutes._"

Suddenly there was a noise outside - the music began. People were applauding.

Siegfried and Miss Fleming were positioning themselves in front of the door, preparing for the opening scene. Rebekah peered around the corner to get a glimpse of the stage.

"And the curtain is _up,_" she whispered hoarsely.

* * *

><p>He had positioned himself strategically between Niklaus and Kol, his mother sat on Kol's other side. They were sitting in the best seats of the theatre, in the loge, where all the world could see them. While his mother and Kol were both clearly relishing in the attention, Niklaus looked almost as uncomfortable as Elijah was feeling.<p>

"Why couldn't we just sit somewhere in the back like normal people?" he muttered darkly and Elijah chuckled.

"I knew this whole thing wouldn't really be to your taste, Niklaus. No drinks."

"If mother wasn't here I'd have brought some anyway," he replied with a wry smile.

"Well, that really would have been just what we needed."

"So I didn't do it. You're rubbing off on me, brother. I'm being a good son, could you imagine?"

Elijah shook his head, smiling. "You must be ill."

"Yes. Very ill indeed-"

Loud music drowned the rest of his sentence. The performance was beginning.

When the first dancer entered the stage, Elijah had to elbow both his younger brothers to keep them from laughing at the young man's outfit. "_Behave_," he growled, Kol rolled his eyes in response, and Niklaus gave back quietly:

"For God's sake, Elijah, I am twenty-four. Don't you think it's a little late to educate me?"

"Hope springs eternal, brother dearest," he whispered. "And now _be quiet._"

"You wanna pull rank with me, brother, that doesn't work; I might not be good at anything else but in that one regard I am well and truly above you."

"We're not in the army, Niklaus, we're in the theatre," Elijah answered softly, feeling the familiar worried frown on his face. His brother had had moments were he had clearly believed himself to be somewhere completely different, once when Elijah had asked him the year, he'd replied _1944. _That had been around Christmas. In 1948.

"If we're not in the army, then why don't you drop the military tone?" His brother threw him a sardonic smile, clearly aware of what his brother was thinking.

Elijah sighed and turned back to the stage just in time to see the dancing students enter the stage.

He had seen ballet performances before, but nothing with a stringent plot. This was an abridged version, however he had to admire his mother – the piece's power was undiminished.

Rebekah was stunning, that much even he could understand, but as brilliant as she probably was, he hardly had eyes for her. He watched the group of dancers, transfixed, hypnotised. In his defence, he had always loved this music – though deep down he knew that was a very poor excuse because it really wasn't the music that held his attention.

Oh no, it was her and he knew that all too well. But he couldn't help it – and wasn't it understandable? The girls had probably been told to smile, but _her_ smile was real – small but radiant and highly contagious. The effort had conjured a faint blush on her cheeks and her brown eyes had a spark in them that reached him though he sat so far away from her.

She was beautiful; there was no way he could deny it.

He stared at her, spellbound and _far _too emotional for his own good.

_Dear Lord, he _really _was in trouble._

And the fact she was only seventeen was the very least of his problems.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

He stepped outside, glad for the cold. He really needed something to ground him, and in the freezing night air he could almost retrieve the composure he had so minutely build up. Without it, he felt naked and weak.

The theme music was still stuck in his head.

Breathing in deeply, he cast a look around, scanning the crowd of girls for his sister.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Rebekah," he told the next-best girl firmly, his words directed more at himself than anyone else.

"Over there," the little girl told him in a hushed voice and rushed off hastily, leaving Elijah to wonder momentarily why half the school seemed to be scared of him.

"Bekah," he called, watching as his sister pulled the needles out of her hair with an annoyed look on her face. "You were splendid."

Rebekah grimaced, shaking the remnants of the braid out of her flaxen hair and replied: "Thank you Elijah. Thinking about a career as a ballet critic?"

He shook his head, thinking Niklaus's sarcasm was really having a bad influence on their sister. "I might not understand much of ballet, but…"

Katerina and Caroline exited the building, flushed and laughing, a third girl in tow.

He realised he had stopped talking and cleared his throat. "… but I think I can tell beauty when I see it."

His sister followed his gaze, smirked and muttered: "Oh, I believe you do."

Hastily, he returned his eyes to his sister, but it was too late. Elijah fought down a curse – as if Niklaus knowing wasn't bad enough…

But Rebekah just laughed. "Don't worry, brother dearest." She rose on tiptoe, kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ear, sounding far too gleeful for his liking: "Your secrets are safe with me."

He wanted to deny it, but it was far too late anyway. "I hope they are, Bekah."

She grinned. "Thank you for coming, Elijah. I have to go, mother wants a word." Rebekah rolled her eyes and sauntered off.

He groaned and stared after her, wondering whether he could trust her and why he even was so paranoid. What scared him wasn't actually people knowing, after all, what scared him was what it might do to him.

Besides, she was his _sister, _God damn it, his beloved little sister; she was _family_. When had he stopped trusting her?

"Elijah."

The sound of her voice made him jump and his throat had gone mysteriously dry. "Katerina. Congratulations. You did very well."

She laughed and wrapped her jacket more tightly around her fragile form. "As if you could even tell which one was me from up there."

"Of course I could, I may be older than you but not _that_ old. My eyes are still rather good, thank you very much," he replied, smiling without meaning to.

Katerina shook her head, grinning. "I didn't meant that. I'm glad you liked it." She paused and glanced up at him for a moment before returning her gaze to her battered shoes. "Thank you for the book."

"It was not a gift, I'd like it back."

She rolled her eyes, but the smile was still on her lips. "And I would've never kept it. Seriously though? _The Hound of the Baskervilles_?"

"Not a good choice?" he inquired, more worried about this than he should have been.

"A very good choice," she answered reluctantly, grimacing. "It's good. Really good. I just meant that I would have never chosen this one."

"It was not my first choice either. It might not really be a book for girls, but then I thought maybe the problem was that people have been giving you books for girls."

She grinned. "Maybe. Well, you'll get it back when I'm done, at the rate I'm going it shouldn't take longer than another week."

"There's no hurry, I must have read it about four times."

"Yes, that's about what it looks like," she answered with a grin.

He laughed. "Oh, you should see the book I took with me to war, it's all but falling apart now but I can't bring myself to part from it."

She looked up at him and bit her lip. "What made you of all people come to a ballet performance?"

He raised a brow at her. "Only last week I had to listen to my brother telling me I was too cultured to survive. A curious remark coming from Niklaus, but then again, irony was always his forte… Anyway, I don't see what is so strange about me coming to my mother's ballet performance."

"Well, you never came before."

"Nor did my brothers," he gave back, trying to elude her interrogation, but he had underestimated her. _Again._

"Yes, and we both know Klaus didn't come for your mother's sake. Or for Rebekah's, before you try to tell me that."

He couldn't suppress a smile. "Where are you going with this?"

"Nowhere, I'm just wondering why you came."

He suddenly noticed two things: firstly that everybody else was long gone and secondly that she stood close, awfully close. Had he initiated that?

"Oh no, you want to hear me say that I came to see you dance."

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "Did you?"

Finally she looked at him. He knew it was stupid, masochistic – this could be his last chance to save his skin, but he knew already that he didn't have the self-restraint left to take it.

"Yes."

The smile on her lips widened. There was still lipstick on them from the performance, bloody red, very slightly smudged. It had happened at the ball, too – clearly she wasn't used to wearing lipstick and had not paid attention to it.

His heart was racing and his throat felt tight. He couldn't tell whether he was ecstatic or terrified – looking back, it had probably been both.

The events of the next few seconds never quite reached his brain. She had gripped his shirt collar, pulling him close; his hands were trailing down the small of her back, tangling in her hair – he had never deliberately put them there. He felt her soft lips on his and his mind went absolutely blank to the point where he was starting to forget to breathe.

His fingers were shaking and he felt dizzy, due to the lack of oxygen probably. He pulled her even closer, her hands gripping his shoulders, and desperately tried to remember whether kissing a woman had always put him in this state.

This was, in every possible regard, the single most stupid thing he could have done to himself, but as scared as he was deep down – there in the freezing October night, he felt more alive than he had since he had first heard the machine guns.

* * *

><p><strong><em>*AN* _**I hope you enjoyed this chapter ^^ It's a bit of a key piece, so I hope I got it alright. I'm starting to be rather fond of Rebekah, for some reason… I hope I can work her in a little more in the later chapters.

And I hope you liked my choice of book. I thought about it for ages, but there really are only a handful of English books written before 1950 that I read and really throughoutly enjoyed, hence my choice.

Please let me have your opinion about it?


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five – October 1950**

Again she woke with a bizarre feeling, taking a moment to understand where she was. Then it all came rushing back and she fell back onto her pillow, her throat tight and feeling her face flush carmine red.

She couldn't have done that, she couldn't possibly have been insane enough to actually-

"Oh God," she whispered. "Oh God, oh my-"

"Kat!" Caroline hissed, re-emerging from behind the wardrobe with her blouse only half-closed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I, well… nothing. Why?" she asked feebly, knowing she would probably not come off as very convincing with her cheeks still burning bright red.

"Katerina Petrova, I don't believe a word you're saying," Caroline replied, grinning widely. "Think I didn't notice you had disappeared all of sudden yesterday evening?"

"I forgot my shoes and had to go back for them," Katerina said, her voice firmer now.

Her friend's blue eyes flared ice-cold in her direction. "Kat, we've been friends for over _seven years, _keep your secrets but _don't you lie to me._"

"You're one to talk, Caroline Forbes; your list of secrets has grown awfully long since the last year."

Caroline shook her head, sighing, and straightened her grey pullover. "Whatever. I might not know where you've been but I sure as hell know _whom _you were with. I'm not blind, Kat, I saw a certain someone talking to Rebekah minutes before you vanished off the face of the earth."

Katerina bit her lip, glaring at her best friend. Well, it was no use hiding it from her – if she refused to say anything, Caroline wouldn't stop nagging all day and then Bonnie would hear… and if Bonnie heard, then within half an hour all the school would know that Katerina had-

She couldn't even bear to think that all the way through. Besides, she had to get it out or she would burst.

"Care," she whispered. "I'm _panicking._"

The blonde pierced her with a sharp look and asked slowly, her anger apparently forgotten: "Kat, what have you done?"

"A bloody good question, that is," she groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. "Dear God."

Caroline sat down on her bed opposite her and asked, smiling: "Spit it out, what happened?"

"I kissed him," she whimpered and it sounded like a question.

Her friend laughed. "Well, I was starting to think you'd done God knows what…" Watching her friend's horrified facial expression, she added with a mild smile: "Katerina, you're both grown-ups, you like him, he likes you, you kissed, what's the big deal?"

"If it was just anyone it wouldn't be a big deal, but-"

"But?"

"He's… he's twenty-six and he's, good lord, he's a Mikaelson-"

"Yes, he's twenty-six, he knows what he's doing, Kat. It doesn't matter who his mother is-"

Her friend's words, however well intended, were doing nothing to calm her down and apparently, Caroline noticed that, too.

"God, Kat, it was just a kiss, it doesn't mean you'll have to marry him. It doesn't have to mean anything. People kiss, it happens, get a grip."

Katerina shook her head, willing her to understand – it wasn't that simple. It just wasn't.

"It doesn't happen _to me, _though, Care."

Caroline rolled her eyes. "You'll be fine. Come on, we'll be late for class."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

She wasn't fine, though, not in the least.

Because maybe she knew that things didn't always have to end like they had with Kolja, but that didn't mean that she wasn't scared they might.

She had the scars to prove that "first love" wasn't always such an awfully romantic concept, and who was to say the second would turn out any better?

But on the other hand, when Caroline had told her it didn't have to mean anything, that hadn't helped her either, because even though the sheer idea of whatever she might have got herself into scared her half to death – it _had _meant something.

She wanted it to mean something. Or did she?

"Miss Petrova, I won't ask you again."

She raised her head, startled, and stared at her math teacher. "I'm sorry, Mr Gilbert, what did you-"

"I asked you for the solution of this equation. Now."

She cleared her throat, looking up at the equation on the blackboard – when had he written it there? – her mind completely blank. "I'm sorry, I… I've lost the thread completely, sir."

"Well, perhaps then you ought to pay attention," John Gilbert said coolly. "Miss Nguyen, maybe you could help us out?"

"a is eight and b is three," Anna answered and their teacher nodded approvingly.

"Any questions as to how this works, Miss Petrova?"

Katerina shook her head, staring down at her paper and noted down the solutions, her mind still far from mathematics.

John Gilbert raised a brow at her and sighed. "Well, I hope you don't, we'll have an exam before Christmas and you just like everyone else are expected to do well."

"Understood, sir," she muttered, still not looking up.

Caroline's hand rested on her back for a moment and Katerina threw her a small smile.

"Ladies, you have interest in doing your homework," John Gilbert said, noting down a few exercises and strode out of the room without another word.

"Kat, you're all pale," said Bonnie, looking at her worriedly. "Come on, don't worry, it's just an exam. You'll be fine-"

"Could you all please stop saying that?" Katerina hissed, jumping to her feet, and rushed out of the room, heading for the bathroom where she locked herself in a cubicle like some thirteen year-old schoolgirl. She felt confused and hysterical.

.

_"Come on, Katjuschka, don't be like that-"_

_"Let me go, Kolja, I don't want to, please let me go, you're hurting me-"_

_._

Oh God, now she was crying. The whole situation was messing with her head. She angrily rubbed the tears off her cheeks and breathed in deeply a couple of times.

"You're a Petrova, a Petrova survives," she muttered, eyes squeezed shut. "We survive anything. _Anything at all._"

.

_"Let me go, please, Kolja, let me go, please, it hurts, you're hurting me, please-"_

_._

"We survive," she repeated, her fingers clenched into her skirt. "We survive, we survive, we survive-"

"Katerina?"

She flinched and quickly wiped the hot tears away.

"Kat, what's wrong?"

She grimaced at the sound of her friend's worried voice, but couldn't bring herself to reply.

"I know it's not the math exam, come on, tell me what's going on."

"I'm fine, Care, go back to class, I'll be right with you," she answered, surprised how firm and honest her voice sounded.

Caroline was quiet for a moment. "I'm your friend, Katerina," she said softly. "I want to help you."

Katerina took a deep breath and pushed the door open. "I know that, and that's kind of you. But I don't need help, Caroline. I am fine."

Her friend pierced her with an icy glare and shook her head. "You have a problem, Katerina. Is there a single person in the world that you trust?"

She shrugged and exited the bathroom with her best, haughty smile on her lips. "I have a survival instinct, Care."

"So you trust no one?" Caroline demanded hotly. "And what do you do if you ever need help?"

"Why do I need to trust someone who helps me?"

Caroline stared at her for a moment, then shook her head and suddenly smiled. "There's my girl."

"Stop taking care of me, I'm fine."

"I don't believe you, Kat, but that's alright. I know you'll tell me eventually."

_No, I'll never tell you that, Care, I've never told anyone, _she thought and smiled at her friend.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

A few days later, Klaus turned up for the first time, "picking up Rebekah", which for some mysterious reason meant that he had to stick around the school for over an hour.

Katerina shook her head, grinning, and watched her friend and Klaus sitting on a little wall in the school garden, laughing about something or another.

They were sitting really close, and one could probably see them from every single window in the school, but they didn't seem to care while Katerina could barely resist the urge to look for Mrs Mikaelson over her shoulder.

From there on, he appeared on the doorstep at least once a week, causing Caroline to smile and Rebekah to roll her eyes and mutter "Oh please, Nik, could you be a little more obvious".

And, perhaps ten days after the performance, his older brother came, too. He just stood in the entrance hall, waiting for his little sister. The first time, she didn't even see him; Bonnie came upstairs, frowning and told her: "I think we're being invaded, Kat."

Katerina looked up from her homework and raised a brow. "How so?"

"Well, first Klaus starts running around here all the time and now Elijah is standing around below, waiting for Rebekah. Seriously, can't she even find her way on her own?"

"He's here?" She put the pen down and got to her feet. "Excuse me for a moment, Bonnie."

"Where are you…?"

Of course, she just had to miss him.

.

The second time, she was just on her way to her dormitory when he appeared in the doorway. He caught her eye and looked like he was going to say something, but then fixed his gaze on his polished shoes instead.

Katerina wanted to say something, too, but didn't really know what and especially didn't know how, so she grabbed her bag and made her way up the stairs.

She turned back at the top of the stairs for a moment and caught him looking up at her.

Katerina walked off and felt absolutely dreadful.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

_I feel like we ought to talk. I meant to do so yesterday, but as you probably noticed I'm a coward and didn't. Please meet me at five in the woods next to the south entrance – I am aware of how that sounds, but believe me, I mean you no harm. I just need a word in private._

The note turned up in her locker in the bathroom. Katerina suspected Rebekah, or maybe even Caroline, but neither of them said a word.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"I'm glad you came," he said quietly, hands down his coat pockets. It was freezing and Katerina wrapped her scarf tightly around her shoulders and smiled tentatively, thinking how lucky it was he had no idea of how much it had taken her to come.

"Me too," she muttered, reaching down her coat pocket. "Your book. Thank you."

He reached for the book with a smile of his own, and laughed when a small bar of chocolate slipped out from between the pages. "Thank you, Katerina."

"A curious meeting place."

"Well, I thought it in both our interest if we didn't meet in plain public," he replied, still with that mild smile. "And this place… we used to come here as children."

"Where exactly are we?" she asked, casting a look around. They were standing in the middle of the old goods wood, a small ruin to her left where a gloomy staircase led down towards a dark vault.

"I doubt you'd want to know."

"Then why would I ask?"

He chuckled and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Well, this place was once part of the Lockwood's property, my father bought it in the twenties. It... there are rumours about captives who starved down there in the middle ages... Niklaus used to hide down here from our father; it was the safest place around. My parents were both superstitious people. My father believed this place was haunted and my mother doesn't set foot on this soil, either."

She stepped closer to the entrance and pulled her scarf tighter. "What does one have to do to a child to make it hide down there?"

Elijah sighed and sat down on one of the walls, turning the book over in his hands. "My father never liked Niklaus," he began quietly. "He had the suspicion that he was not his son, though as far as I know my mother never gave any indication for that. Ironically, my father met much the same fate as my brother did – he went to war and came home a broken man. Like my brother, he took to drinking, and most of all it was Niklaus who had to endure his fits of violence."

Katerina sat down next to him. "How old was he?"

"Niklaus? Oh, I'm afraid he was very young when it first happened. Finn was the only one who would have been old enough to protect him, but he never did – Niklaus and he were never close and Finn was scared of our father." He smiled ruefully and shook his head. "Well, who could blame him? We all were."

She looked at the young man next to her, the warm brown eyes and the slightest hint of a smile around his lips when he looked back at her. "You're not angry at him."

He bit his lip and looked away, staring into the depths of the wood. "Oh, I used to be dreadfully angry. But after the war, I've come to the conclusion that a trauma is an illness. My father might have hurt us, but not out of spite or because he was evil. He was a victim of what had happened to him."

"I don't believe I would… that I would have had the strength to deal with it like that," she whispered, her voice faltering a little. Oh no, she wouldn't have had the strength to forgive such awful things.

She _didn't _have the strength to forgive such things.

"Is it strength or is it weakness?" he gave back with a sardonic smile. "Sometimes I wonder."

She shook her head. "If you can't forgive then you can't forget. Can't live on. Hate is a paralytic," she said firmly, thinking of how her nightmare kept coming back, even two years later.

"True," he muttered, watching the forest. "But then again, most feelings are."

She turned towards him, slightly shocked by his words. "Not all feelings."

He sighed, looking at her with the same warm eyes, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "Love? I must admit I have my doubts about the concept."

There was an odd stinging in her chest and her throat felt tight. Suddenly, she felt terribly sorry for him – she knew this feeling, she knew it all too well. "No, that is too sad a thing to live with. If we don't believe in love, what's there left to live for?"

He looked at her, a genuine smile on his lips now and a hand on her shoulder. "And you really are seventeen?"

Katerina laughed, shaking her head. "Yes, of course I am. What makes you think I wasn't?"

"Well, my sister is your age and I never had the feeling she understood me like that."

The feeling of his hand on her shoulder was upsetting to no end, which was the best excuse she had for her reply or her harsh tone.

"You should be bloody grateful she doesn't."

For a moment, he just looked at her; the next he had pulled her close and kissed her.

She was panicking, and forgetting to breathe and her heart beat so quickly it hurt. She was at the same time dreadfully scared and insanely happy; and though that could have been her imagination, it seemed to her his hands were shaking almost as much as hers.

A sudden sound made her flinch and only when she felt him smile against her lips she realised the book must have slipped from his pocket.

Her lungs were empty and her heart was clenched in panic, but suddenly it cost her all her strength to maintain her guardedness. So she buried her fingers in his dark hair and let it go.

She couldn't even tell when she had last handed over control like that. Her head was spinning so badly she was certain she would have fallen off the wall ages ago if he hadn't held her. She really wasn't used to this anymore.

"Are you alright?"

She smiled ruefully, avoiding his eyes, her fingers still gripping his collar. "I'm… I'm scared, but," she laughed nervously. "It's not your fault. Just me."

His hand gripped her shoulder and he looked down at her, his brown eyes oddly dark. "What happened to you, Katerina?"

Her breathing quickened ever so slightly. She cursed internally and tried to bring it back under control. "Nothing."

Elijah watched her closely, but then he smiled, tucked a curl behind her ear and bent down to pick up the book. "We should get back, the way I know my mother she counts her students at dinner. Besides, I really must apologise for luring you out here in this cold."

Katerina laughed and shook her head. The man really had no idea what he was doing to her – right now she felt like she was burning up. The cold didn't even reach her.

But he was right – Mrs Mikaelson would freak out if she found out Katerina had disappeared. They weren't allowed to leave school without permission, not that Katerina, Caroline or Bonnie had ever really cared.

In a split-second decision, she turned back around and asked tentatively: "Where… where is this going?"

He looked almost as uncertain as she was feeling when he replied softly: "I don't know, to be quite honest." In an insecure gesture, he ran his fingers through his dark hair again. "Dear me, it's… it's been a while since I…" He cleared his throat and smiled. "We'll sort this out, Katerina. I'll give you some time, I suppose we might both need it."

"Maybe, yes," she muttered and turned away slowly.

"I'll be in touch," he called after her, a trace of laughter in his voice.

"About what?"

"Well, you'll need another book," he replied with a grin and Katerina burst out laughing.

* * *

><p><em><strong>*AN***_ So, a lot of hints and bits of information… I know I'm being quite harsh with my main characters when it comes to their backstory, but the idea was to stay as close to the original story as possible and they didn't exactly go easy on their poor characters, either, did they?

Now, again, I've put some thought in this… the name Kolja is related to the name Niklaus.

Please tell me what you think about it!


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six – November 1950**

The first few chords came reluctantly, a little too loud and not perfectly timed, then the memories slowly returned into his fingers. The sound made him smile – for a moment, the house didn't seem so gloomy and empty and he could almost picture little Rebekah crawling over the floor again, her favourite doll in tow; Niklaus outside the window with dirty clothes, hardly eleven years old, kicking a muddy ball around the garden.

He breathed in deeply and listened to the soft melody, allowing the familiar sound to conjure up the memories of simpler days for a moment.

Rebekah sat down next to him on the piano bench, a surprised smile on her lips. "You haven't played in ages."

"For seven years," came their brother's voice from behind them. Niklaus leaned in the doorway, arms crossed and a faint smirk playing around his lips. "Since the war. I _wonder _what changed now."

Elijah grimaced; their little sister laughed and shook her head at Niklaus.

"True. But then again, Nik, you of all people should keep your mouth well shut."

He grinned and shrugged her comment off. "Speaking of which, I'm running late, I should be off."

Elijah raised a brow at his younger brother. "Today? Mother might just throw a fit-"

"And I couldn't care less if she did, Elijah," he replied calmly.

Glaringly obvious as his brother had been – _kissing _Caroline in plain sight, Niklaus really was more subtle than ever – it hadn't taken his mother very long to grow aware of her son's doings. And when she had, the ever-present tension between mother and son had shorted out; the house had been filled with yelling for hours. Mostly Esther's yelling; Niklaus had remained remarkably calm. He had just sat there, a glass of scotch in his hand and insisted they were both of age and his mother had no influence whatsoever on what they were doing, with whom and why.

Only when she had announced she would have a word with Caroline about all this, Niklaus had started to raise his voice.

It had ended with another thirty minutes of yelling, a spilled glass of scotch, a shattered vase and his mother in the worst mood she'd been in for years; but as far as Elijah knew, she had indeed not spoken a word to Caroline about the whole affair.

He himself was putting quite some effort in being a little more subtle – well, he had to, since his little brother's best argument didn't apply in his case. Though she seemed far older most of the time, Katerina was seventeen and antiquated as this small town was, all hell would break lose around them if whatever it was they had came to light, especially because she was a student at his mother's school. Good Lord, he could hear them already – _nine years younger, and no intention to marry her, could you imagine?_

He didn't care, but he had seen how his mother had reacted to Niklaus's and Caroline's relationship and Caroline at least was of age. He could about fathom what a strain it would put on their family's bond if she was to find out about his secret, too.

All that secrecy would not really have bothered him – only it limited the little time they had even more. He still spent most of the week in London; their weekends were short and under tragically close surveillance by his mother.

But however dissatisfying their situation was, he couldn't remember ever feeling this happy, this alive. Perhaps he had been before the war, but somehow those memories had faded so much he could hardly recall them though they only were six or seven years old. Or maybe he really had never felt this way. He couldn't tell and it didn't matter.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

He shuddered and pulled his hat deeper into his face. His breath conjured thick white clouds into the crisp evening air. It was freezing, but he couldn't have stomached being inside for another minute. Since Kol had returned to school the previous day, his mother's mood had hit zero once more. She felt like she'd lost all of her men, him and Kol to their respective schools and Finn, Niklaus and her husband to the war.

"You're the only one I have left," she liked to tell her daughter demonstratively, usually followed by a reproachful look in his direction and a comment along the lines of "since your brothers are never here".

"Just now, mother, I _am _right here," he had answered this morning, not quite able to keep the anger out of his voice. Niklaus had witnessed the whole scene with a stony expression and his lack of reaction had enraged Elijah even more – was he the only one who _cared _that she acted as if Niklaus too, had died during the war, as if he'd never returned home from battle?

Now his mother had left with Rebekah to visit an aunt in Bristol overnight, Niklaus had disappeared to God knew where around lunch and hadn't returned since. Elijah had fled the devastating emptiness of the house he'd grown up in. He couldn't stand to remember how happy they'd been, couldn't stand to realise for how long they weren't anymore. Since his father was dead, Finn was gone and his mother paralysed by bitterness, he as the oldest brother was the one in charge; and until now, he had failed spectacularly – a tragedy this morning had reminded him of a little too much for his liking.

It pained him to watch his family fall apart like that and he hated having to take a side – in his case, siding with Niklaus, against his mother who rather pretended he was dead than face what her son had done, and against their youngest brother who resented Niklaus for what had happened to their father.

Elijah sighed and pushed his hands deeper down his pockets. The cold night air that filled his lungs was starting to calm him a little. His thoughts returned to more pleasant things – mostly to a handful of precious careless hours he'd spent with Katerina the previous day – and a small, rueful smile crept on his lips. He would have to make do with those memories all week…

By the time he had reached the edge of the wood, he was deep in thought; so when he heard soft footsteps in the snow, he gave a start, feeling positively guilty. Perhaps his brother was right – he really was very lucky he had survived the war at all, vigilant soldier that he was.

He spotted a familiar figure on the path that led to the school, grinned and quickened his steps. In the fading light, it took him a moment to understand what looked so strange about her appearance –

"Dear Lord, what happened to you?"

She was soaking wet, stray curls had fought their way out of her tight bun, shining jet black; her coat clung to her like a second skin and anyway it was so thin that she couldn't have possibly felt warm in the first place. She'd wrapped her arms tightly around herself in a futile attempt to keep herself warm, her lips looked blue and she was shaking.

Katerina avoided his eyes and replied irritably: "My own stupidity, that's all."

He shook his head at her and hurriedly took off his own coat and held it out to her.

"Oh please, that's really not necessary," she protested, looking positively alarmed.

He almost laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. Perhaps another two hours and you'll have frozen to death."

She glared back at him defiantly, then seemed to understand he wasn't going to let it go and wrapped herself up in the heavy woollen coat. "Thank you," she muttered, staring at her feet.

He tried his best to ignore the biting cold and put an arm around her shoulder, directing her back towards the house.

"You have to get inside," he said, shaking his head at the young woman. "What are you even doing here?"

Katerina shrugged, pulling his coat tighter around herself. "Your mother ordered new dancing shoes for Caroline, I'm supposed to fetch them." She laughed, shaking her head. "I didn't see the ice on the Wickery Bridge and slipped."

Elijah remembered how they'd played on the small bridge as children – when Rebekah was five, she'd fallen into the river and if it hadn't been for Niklaus she would have surely drowned.

"It's very easy to fall from that bridge," he muttered.

Katerina laughed weakly. "Maybe, but still bloody stupid."

He pulled her closer, watching her anxiously – she looked like she really was about to freeze to death.

"Come on," he murmured, reaching for his key – which obviously wasn't there, since it was right where it belonged in his coat pocket.

Cursing under his breath, he quickened his steps, dragging her with him, and gently reached for the key in her pocket. She shivered, though he couldn't tell whether it was because of the cold or because he couldn't really avoid touching her.

She was deadly pale and now her lips were really blue; it _was_ dreadfully cold. He fumbled with the lock for a moment and pulled her inside.

"This way." Suddenly he regretted his constant caution – he wished he'd left the fire burning. While she sank down on the couch, hugging her knees tightly, he busied himself at the fireplace. When the fire finally sprang to life, he got to his feet an announced quietly: "Wait a minute, I'll find you something dry to wear-"

"Now you're overdoing…"

He'd left the room before she could finish, ignoring her completely.

When he returned with a stack of his sister's clothes, she was kneeling in front of the fireplace, looking a little less like an ice statue. "Thank you, Elijah, but I really can't… what if I ruin them?"

"You'd probably do my sister a favour, my mother bought her those clothes and she despises them," he replied drily and handed her the clothes, smiling a little. "I'll make a tea, would you like a cup?"

"Is that a joke?" she asked with a faint laugh. "I might need a few litres to defrost."

"Back in a moment," he replied softly. "You'll want to change your clothes, Katerina. Honestly, you'll catch your death."

.

When he came back with the tea, she still sat in front of the fireplace. Rebekah's pullover was slightly too big for her and for the first time, he thought she looked very fragile. She'd let down her hair and now it framed her pale face in tight curls, still damp; her clothes hung over a chair near the fire.

She looked up and smiled.

"What do I tell Miss Fleming if she asks where I've been all the time?"

He raised a brow at her. "How about the truth?"

Katerina laughed and took a cup of tea from him. "What, that you asked me inside and we had a tea while my clothes hung over a chair? Sounds like a splendid idea."

Elijah grinned and took a sip of his tea. "You make it sound quite a lot worse than it actually is."

"Well, that's how it will sound to everybody else," she replied, still smirking, and clutched her teacup. "What about your mother, where is she?"

"She went to visit my father's sister in Bristol, dragged Rebekah along," he answered. "Bekah wasn't too happy about it. Niklaus should be somewhere here, but… God knows where he went."

Katerina raised a brow at him. "I think we can both hazard an educated guess, right?"

"Caroline," he muttered, shaking his head. "Is she doing alright? Mother isn't… very pleased with her at the moment, and I know what that is like."

"Care's fine. I think she's enjoying it, in a way," she replied with a little grin. "Her little rebellion."

"Is that what it is to her? A rebellion?"

Katerina chuckled and shook her head at him. "Hold your horses, there is no one less likely to break your brother's heart than Caroline Forbes. She likes him, really, to a point where I can't… no offence, but sometimes I think you two must have seen something in Klaus that I won't ever see."

Elijah stared into his cup and caught himself asking himself the same stupid question that had made him laugh at many of his friends… where had this person been all his life?

"Maybe we do. Or maybe I just still see my little brother whom I've grown up with, I don't know."

She gently blew on the tea and looked up at him over the edge of the pearly white china, the firelight reflecting in her eyes. God, she was _beautiful…_

He couldn't suppress a small smile. As miserable as she must have been feeling a moment ago, he couldn't help being immensely grateful for her little mishap – he hadn't been expecting to see her before the next weekend or, even worse, the one after that.

He watched her, putting his cup down slowly, scared he'd spill the tea all over his mother's precious carpet.

"Why are you smiling like that, is there… something in my face?" Katerina asked with an insecure little smile.

Her reaction took him by surprise. "Oh no, by no means. Quite the contrary," he replied, shaking his head at her. "I'm just…" He cleared his throat. "Are you cold?"

"Much better, thanks," she muttered, smiling up at him. "I don't think I've ever had such expensive tea in my life."

He laughed. "I am truly sorry that my mother's posh tea is all I can offer you."

"It's not that bad, and it's warm," she replied with a faint smile. He liked that about her – that disdain towards aristocracy, towards wealth, old money, antiquated morals and codes of ethics. Even though that meant that everything he had to impress a woman wasn't worth a penny in her case.

She finished her cup. "I've got to get back-"

He couldn't help a smile at her words. He caught a wisp of soft dark hair between his fingers. "Still damp, you're not going anywhere."

"You don't intend to lock me up in here, do you?" she gave back with a grin, brown eyes sparkling at him, holding him.

"I have better ways to keep you here," he replied quietly and buried his fingers deeper in her hair.

Her lips curved into a softer smile. "You probably have."

Still smiling, he crossed the last few inches left between them and kissed her.

As she placed a hand on his neck to pull him closer, her fingers touched the bruises on his skin, just for a second, but the sudden pain was enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

She traced the greenish marks with her finger, shock etched onto her pretty features. It was remarkable she had seen them at all, just this morning he had, not without relief, found they had almost faded. It was annoying him to hide them, moreover, they were a constant source of guilt for Niklaus who had secluded himself even more since it had happened.

"He tried to kill you," she whispered, and he wanted to shake his head, to protest; but the evidence was fairly obvious: in his right mind or not, had it not been for Rebekah, the pressure of his brother's fingers would have strangled him.

"It was an accident," he said softly and closed his hand around hers, gently pulling it away. "Besides, had I had the nerve to defend myself a little more, it would have never happened."

"You didn't defend yourself?" she repeated, her brown eyes shimmering just a little too much in the light of the fire. "Do you have no survival instinct at all?"

"It takes an immense lot of effort to hurt my brother. I feel like father when I do, and I just keep seeing him how he came to me afterwards, black and blue all over, crying. I said I would protect him. You should have seen him then, Katerina – he was a sweet kid. Full of life and eager to learn, with a good heart and brave as any child could be. Even when father picked on him more than on the rest of us put together, he was never hateful, he fought and thrived for our father to love him. Rebekah idolised him, did everything for him. Secretly, I admit, they were always my favourite siblings. Finn… well, I don't know, I never had much of a connection to him, maybe we were too many years apart, maybe I just never really understood him; and Kol, he was always wild and careless. But Niklaus and Bekah… they were the most wonderful of children, and by rights they should have grown to be outstanding, great people. Instead, our father and this… this tragic, spiteful world made them into a paranoid man with absolutely psychopathic tendencies and a foolish girl so desperate for love and attention that she would blindly throw herself into the arms of anyone who would promise her a home." He shook his head, putting a smile on his lips while he fought back the stinging in his eyes. "And once again, I have burdened you with a scene from this family's tragedy that has no meaning to you. I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes, a fake smile of her own on her lips. "I thought I made myself clear the last twenty times," she muttered and, very pointedly avoiding the bruises, pulled him closer again. "Stop. Apologising."

The answer died on his lips. Something had changed in those kisses, there was something desperate about them now, some kind of longing that he hadn't felt in years, not like that. But he was holding back, scared to break this fragile girl that for some reason seemed to be just as broken as he was. If he hadn't noticed before then he did now. There was that hunger in her, too, just below the surface; but she was scared to let go, maybe even more than he was. And he couldn't help wondering what might have happened to her - a girl this young that had spent most of her childhood in the secure, lonely environment of his mother's school - that could spark such deep-seated fear.

He caught her hands in his and sought her gaze. "The control is all yours, you know? My fate in your hands."

"Good," she replied with a grin, but he thought he spotted a glimpse of relief in her brown eyes, which confirmed his theories further – and fed that diffuse anger they had sowed in him. Though the moment her lips were back on his they were forgotten, just like most other thing on his mind (which was probably what made this so addictive).

How they ended up in his room, he couldn't actually tell, all he knew was that her curls were long dry and it was long since dark when he could finally bring himself to utter the words "you really need to get back".

She laughed, her breath tickled his skin. "Oh God, what do I tell them?"

He grimaced and got up with a sigh. "Not the truth."

"Oh, that's helpful," she gave back and combed through her hair with her fingers.

"Say you got lost in the forest."

"Right," she scoffed. "The forest isn't _big _enough to lose myself in for, what, two hours? Three? They'll know there's something going on."

"Well, Caroline knows anyway, so does my sister…"

"Yes, but Bonnie doesn't," she replied. "And Bonnie can't know, because she just can't keep a secret."

"She will find out eventually, Katerina," he answered softly.

"So will your mother."

"Yes, she will," he muttered, running both hands through his hair. "May God have mercy on my soul."

He watched her as she put on her uniform and pulled her hair back into the bun it had been in this afternoon, then grabbed something from his bedside table and got to his feet.

"I feel a tramp for saying that now, but, um, goodbye."

He was amazed how quickly she went back to being almost shy around him – when there could have been absolutely no talk of shyness minutes ago. "Well that feeling is completely misplaced. And I'll take you back, so there's no saying goodbye."

"No, don't, really, you've-"

He placed finger on her lips. "There is no discussing this."

She sighed. "Very well. If you really have nothing better to do."

"I absolutely don't. And I will force you to wear my coat and if it's the last thing I do."

Katerina groaned, shaking her head at him. "Don't you think you've done enough?"

"No."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

The forest was pitch-black and the night air bitterly cold, but he felt warm, and somehow deeply peaceful, a feeling that had grown strange to him. Her fingers were loosely intertwined with his and he thought he would like to remain in this moment forever – just the two of them and the quiet of the forest, the patches of snow below their soles and a glimpse of the stars above.

When they reached the edge of the forest, he stopped and let go of her hand.

"Well then, goodbye," she said softly, a smile playing around her lips.

"Wait, I," he reached down his pocket and pulled out the book, "I almost forgot."

She laughed when she realised what he was holding, gripped him by the jacket and kissed him. "Will you be home next weekend?"

"I'll try," he muttered and pushed a stray curl behind her ear. "You need to go. And, Katerina-"

"Hm?"

"Should my mother give you a hard time about this, tell her the truth. I'm the only one she'd be angry with, you have nothing to fear from her. Well, perhaps you shouldn't tell her the _whole _truth," he added with a faint smile.

"Who would have thought you of all people would enjoy this so much?" she asked with a laugh and disappeared into the night.

* * *

><p><em><strong>*AN* **_I am highly insecure about this chapter, so by all means let me have your opinion on it!

As for the characterisations of Klaus and Rebekah, I've got to admit I'm really proud of them. Just watched "Farewell to Storyville" (and it was _beautiful_) and I think there is an immense lot to learn about the three of them as a family and as individuals. So thoughts and comments would be very welcome.


	8. Chapter Seven

Hi vivaciously vain! I'm glad you're enjoying this story so much, I put an awful lot of time and effort in it and your kind words are much appreciated! So far it is updated weekly.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven – December 1950 <strong>

"No, this is too much, I'm gonna go get her." Katerina threw the book shut and got to her feet. "She's been gone all day. Sooner or later Mrs Mikaelson is going to kill her."

Bonnie smiled at her. "I'm on your side, Kat, you don't have to tell me." She absent-mindedly ran a finger along the graph she was drawing and shook her head. "But I don't think you should go."

"Why not, 'cause it's _dark_?" Katerina scoffed.

"Don't be silly, it's just…"

"Klaus?" Bonnie nodded. Smiling, Katerina reached for her scarf. "What should he do to me? He's got no reason to hurt me, Bon. He wouldn't dare," she added softly, more to herself.

"Still, I don't think you should go there alone."

"It's perfectly safe, Bonnie, stop fussing," Katerina said with a laugh. "Who are you, my mother?"

"What of his brothers?"

That remark came so unexpectedly – it was so _absurd _– that she couldn't help laughing. When Bonnie frowned at her, though, she quickly caught herself and said, in the most authentic voice she could muster: "What, Kol is a year younger than me, this is ridiculous. Why are you so set on believing they would try to hurt me, anyway? What for, I'm just a student, I'm nobody."

"I don't know, it's just… they give me the creeps, the whole family. Like… like there's something fundamentally _wrong _with them," Bonnie answered softly, staring at her exercise book.

"Well, as a family there certainly is," Katerina muttered and grabbed her coat.

"At least take a torch with you," her friend said and Katerina grimaced. Right, Bonnie was bound to believe she was without any sense of orientation whatsoever – after all, she had told everyone she'd got lost in the forest on the way back from the Mikaelson's mansion. But she gladly endured everyone thinking she was stupid… Fighting down a smirk, she nodded and went to fetch her old torch before sneaking out.

Getting out of the school was easy enough – Mrs Wilson, her biology teacher, took watch and sneaking past her really was no fun at all, it was just too easy.

On her way through the forest, though, she was almost glad for the torch. The darkness and the soft noises between the big old trees were sending shivers down her spine and she was immensely relieved when she finally spotted a light between the branches.

The mansion looked even more massive in the dark, the long drive with the neatly trimmed hedges and the huge balcony over the entrance door. It was a beautiful house, old, but not run-down like the school. Yet, probably due to Elijah's stories about his family, about what had happened within these walls, about what was _still _happening within these walls – it had something incredibly dark about it and despite the bright light in the windows and the soft noises coming from inside, it seemed empty to her. Abandoned and haunted by the ghosts of people lost to war and violence.

She herself only connected a single memory with it, a happy one, yet she was almost scared to ring the doorbell.

To her immense surprise and slight worry, it was Kol Mikaelson who opened the door, his trademark dirty grin on his face.

"Another of my brother's lady friends?" he asked in a heavily suggestive tone. Katerina raised her chin a little, trying to scrape together some contempt – the boy was a year younger than her for God's sake – and replied coldly: "I'm here for Caroline."

"Oh right, that was her name," he said, his smirk widening even more. He scrutinised her openly from head to foot, and young though he was she felt highly uncomfortable, naked. Dirty.

"I know you from somewhere, don't I?" he asked slowly, visibly enjoying her discomfort. "I could swear I'd seen you before."

"Well, I'm in the same year as your sister-"

"No, that's right, you were at the ball with Elijah."

He was still staring at her in that shameless fashion.

"Kol," came a sharp voice from the end of the hall.

"Friend of yours," Kol drawled, turning towards the man in the doorway.

"Won't you ask her inside?"

"Sure," Kol said with a false smile. "Anything you say, oh wise brother." He turned back to Katerina and stepped aside. "Come in."

She entered tentatively, putting as much distance between herself and Kol as possible when she passed him. He was back to eying her in that disconcerting way and she could feel his gaze prickling in her neck. Elijah met her eyes for a second or so, a polite, empty smile on his face.

"Good evening, Katerina," he said quietly and she couldn't help admiring his acting skills: there was an ever so slight pause before her name, as if he hadn't immediately remembered it. She allowed herself a tentative smile.

"Good evening. I don't want to intrude, I just… I came to fetch Caroline."

"Well, she's quite busy with my brother at the moment, not sure if you'd want to see what exactly it is they're doing…" Kol said, grinning widely.

Elijah sighed. "Isn't there some important essay on your desk that needs to be finished by tomorrow morning?"

Kol rolled his eyes. "What would I do without you, Elijah? I mean, imagine, I might even be having _fun._"

"Most of all, you would never finish school, but my sincerest apologies for not managing to get myself killed and relieve you of my burden, brother."

The fact his brother had just accused him of wanting rid of him didn't seem to faze Kol in the least. He merely raised a brow at Elijah and sauntered off without another word.

Katerina stared after him, a shiver running down her spine, and wondered whether there really was something wrong with every single member of this family.

She felt a hand resting on her hip. "So, you… came for Caroline, then," he muttered in her ear and she could hear a trace of suggestiveness in his voice.

Katerina laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "You are very full of yourself and yes, I'm here for Caroline. Actually I'm pretty worried your mother will rip her head off before long."

"Your concern for her speaks highly of you, Katerina, but I don't think she has anything to fear from our mother. Quite unlike me, neither her nor my brother ever sought to hide anything from her nor did they do anything wrong, so she has nothing on them." He sighed and trailed his finger down her arm. "Sorry about my brother, by the way. He's, well… I'm afraid he just craves attention, and the more appalling his methods the more satisfied he is. Mother dotes on him, lets him do whatever he wants, hoping that he'll come to his senses eventually. I have my doubts; I'm starting to think it's just his nature… anyway, sorry. I'll make sure nothing of that sort will ever happen again."

She smiled, turned around and placed a quick kiss on his lips. "Big words. Don't worry, though, I can handle Kol."

"You shouldn't have to. And I shouldn't let you."

Katerina shook her head. "I'm more worried about your other brother. Will he get Care into trouble?"

"Well, for now he's crazy about her and he certainly doesn't mean to hurt her. But then again, it's Niklaus. All he needs to do is lose his temper, feel betrayed, relapse…" He sighed heavily and placed both hands on her shoulders. "I can't promise he won't bring her trouble."

She bit her lip and turned her head to the stairs. "And I guess I'm not the right person to tell her she's making a mistake."

"Perhaps not."

"Anyway, if she doesn't come back now, she'll get us all into trouble," she muttered, winding out of his arms with a sigh. "Where are they?"

He was about to answer when a sudden noise made them both jump.

Katerina frowned and cast a look around. "What was that?"

Elijah's face had gone stark white and his eyes were oddly wide when he started towards the stairs. "A gunshot. Stay here."

Her heart pounding, she hurried after him. On the landing, they almost ran into Kol.

"Elijah, what-"

"Poachers. Get outside and tell them if they fire one more shot I'll kill them personally. Be careful," Elijah ordered without stopping.

On the corridor, he grabbed her shoulder and pierced her with a firm look. "You stay out of this room no matter what happens, do you understand me?" he said sharply; then ripped a door open and rushed inside.

"Caroline, get out, right now," she could hear his strained whisper. Katerina clenched her hand over her mouth and leaned against the wall, not quite sure for whom she feared more.

"No."

"Please, Caroline, just go. You're in danger." Silence for a moment, then Elijah went on, his voice louder now, but gentle. "Niklaus. Why don't you put that away?"

Katerina cursed, bit her lip and entered. She'd never been in this room before and she'd thought it was Klaus's bedroom, but it wasn't. There was a fireplace and a monstrous oak desk, heavy curtains and two chintz chairs by the fire. Bookshelves lined the walls.

The late Mr Mikaelson's study.

Katerina had no idea what Klaus of all people was doing here, but at the moment that was the very least of her concerns. There was a smudge of something dark over Caroline's arm that looked a dreadful lot like blood.

More blood to find on Klaus's hands, shards of glass were scattered around him and there was red on them, too. It took her ages to understand he must have broken a glass and cut himself on the fragments. His blue eyes seemed almost black as he stared at his fingers, transfixed; his expression was blank as if he didn't feel the pain of the cuts. He was breathing heavily.

Elijah threw her a look somewhere between exasperation and panic and jerked his head towards the door before making another few steps towards his brother. Katerina grabbed her friend's hand.

"Go on, brother, give me that. You're bleeding-"

"Stay away from me," Klaus growled, abruptly looking up at his older brother. He took a step back and Katerina noticed the way he gripped a big shard firmly, almost as if he was holding a knife.

Elijah raised both hands and froze on the spot. "Alright."

Katerina squeezed Caroline's hand. "Come on, Care. We gotta get out," she breathed, but Caroline shook her head, her eyes shimmering in the firelight.

"You're safe. Put that away, you don't need it."

"_Safe?_" Klaus repeated, sheer disgust in his voice. "I'm not safe anywhere in this house. My little brother wants me dead, my mother pretends I was already, and to you and Rebekah I am nothing but a burden. Believe me, I'm not _safe_ here."

"They love you," Caroline whispered. "They don't see you as a burden, they want to help you, Klaus."

"Niklaus, none of us here wants to hurt you," Elijah said softly, still not moving.

"Oh really," Klaus scoffed, a condescending laugh on his lips. "Not even you, brother? You'd finally be rid of me. You'd be free, think about it. No more running after me, no more making excuses. Having your life back, Elijah, all of your time and your thoughts all to yourself, how does that sound to you?"

"Like I'd lost my little brother for good. Just might be the end of me," Elijah replied and took his hands down slowly. Klaus's hand holding the shard shot forward; he gripped it too firmly, blood spilled on the carpet.

Katerina's heartbeat pounded through her head. She couldn't hear anything else anymore.

"Put that away, he's you're brother," she said and took a few steps forward. Caroline tried to hold her back, but she tore herself free from her grip. "You're going to regret this."

Klaus started towards her. Katerina barely had time to flinch before his throat made contact with his older brother's forearm. Klaus slammed backwards into the bookshelf, the next moment Elijah groaned in pain when the fragment sunk into his skin.

"Get out," he growled, teeth clenched. "_Now!_"

Klaus's fist hit his jaw with an ugly sound.

"Get _out_!"

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"Hold still."

"It's nothing, I can do that myself-"

"Shut up," Katerina said firmly and tightened her grip around his arm. The glass fragment was long and sharp all around; she had cut her finger when she'd pulled it out, causing Elijah to fuss even more. She couldn't help wondering how Klaus's hand had to look like – if he had stabbed his brother's shoulder with such force, he was bound to have driven it through his hand as well.

"Is this how you generally spend your weekend? With your brother trying to kill you?" she muttered, pressing the towel to the ragged wound. It was already soaked with blood; the cut was deep.

"It doesn't – in five years, he injured me maybe six or seven times. It doesn't happen often," he replied. "Besides, don't be so melodramatic. If he'd wanted to kill me, he would have cut my throat and I'd probably be dead. But instead, he aimed for my shoulder, he wanted me to let go."

Katerina gave a cold laugh. "Well, in that case most people would have just said 'let go'."

Elijah sighed, placed a hand on her arm and answered softly: "My brother knows me, it was therefore perfectly evident to him that as long as you were standing right behind me I would have done anything to keep him away from you. In his mind, it was the only way."

"But it wasn't!"

"Katerina, under such circumstances, his mind would present him the situation in the most objective way. There was a threat to his life, me in this case. I wasn't going to stop as long as you were there; he had no influence on your whereabouts and consequently saw no way to reason with me. So his only possibility to save his life was to incapacitate me," he explained patiently.

She shook her head at him. "And that's all well and good, except for the tiny little fact that you were at no point trying to kill him."

"He is dreadfully paranoid, convinced everyone around him would kill him the moment they might profit of his death. He _believed_ I was trying to kill him."

She took his hand and watched the man in front of her, gnawing at her lower lip. He looked bad, there was a bruise forming around his jaw and the towel pressed to his wound had smeared blood across his chest. But his brown eyes were soft, there even was a smile playing around his lips.

"You keep forgiving him," she whispered. "But he's insane, he'll do nothing but hurt you-"

"He doesn't mean it, it's not his fault," he replied just as quietly, almost pleading, but she cut him off.

"I know, but that'll be of little use to you when you're dead!"

He shook his head, ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her gently. "He's my brother, I cannot give up on him, Katerina. I can't. I promised I'll look after him and Bekah. Always and forever. I've failed him so often, when our father abused him I just stood by, I…" His breath quickened slightly and he closed his eyes, but she could see the tears pour out between his lashes. She leaned her head against his good shoulder, a hand on his neck.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "It's just… does it have to be all or nothing? Either you save him or he kills you?"

"I see no other way," he whispered. "Besides, if I accept that he can't be saved, then… then I'll have to accept what that means for me. That there is no hope for me, either. I can't do that."

Katerina sighed, her forehead still leaning against his shoulder. It almost made her laugh. Wasn't it funny how they'd found each other, the two of them of all people? Perfectly whole on the outside – a girl from a ballet school, perfectly adapted to her new country, self-confident and with good friends and a law student from a rich, influential family who'd returned from war without so much as a scratch, selflessly caring for his younger siblings and his mother.

But on the inside, despite the fact they were still young, they were both cracked like a window pane the moment before it shattered. Ready to break.

"I want to help," she said softly, hating her voice for sounding so weak. _You've helped me, too._

Her comment made him smile. He cupped her face with his hand, gently brushing her hair aside. "You do."

Someone tentatively knocked on the door. "Kat?"

Katerina brushed a kiss over his lips and got to her feet.

"Come in," Elijah called and fumbled with the button of his shirt.

Caroline entered. She looked pale, a few wisps of flaxen hair had escaped her tight bun, but the blood on her arm had gone. Her eyes fell on the bloody towel in Elijah's hand and she bit her lip.

"That looks nasty."

He just smiled. "Don't worry, Caroline, I'll live." He eyed her cautiously. "Are you alright? Did he-"

"No. I'm fine." She ran her hand over where the blood had been and added softly, more to herself: "It was his blood."

"Alright," he answered. "You should go back, both of you."

"Yes," Katerina muttered. "Come on, Care."

Elijah grabbed a clean towel and a jacket and accompanied them downstairs. Klaus stood in the doorway to the kitchen, still looking pale and shaken. He eyed the ruby red stains blossoming on the snow white towel and sought his brother's gaze.

"Elijah," he began hoarsely, but Elijah just gave a curt nod in his direction and turned away from him.

Klaus eyed him for another moment and disappeared into the kitchen.

The front door burst open just as Elijah reached for the handle and Kol entered, shaking his head. "They ran away before I could get to them, but I left them with a warning that next time, we'll have them all arrested," he said, then glanced at his brother and, inexplicably, grinned at Katerina. "What have you two been doing?"

"I've had enough of your tasteless jokes, Kol," Elijah said coldly before she could answer. "As you might imagine, I've had better days, so I suggest you don't try my patience. Get back to your homework."

Kol just raised a brow at him. "Cheer up, no woman likes a bore, brother," he said and went up the stairs.

"I'm sorry," Elijah muttered, shaking his head, and Katerina wasn't quite sure which of his brothers he was referring to.

Caroline threw him a small smile and Katerina brushed a hand against his before they stepped outside.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

As they walked towards the forest, Caroline gripped her hand.

"We got ourselves into quite some trouble, didn't we?"

Katerina grinned. "Does that really surprise you?"

Her friend glanced at her and burst out laughing which finally lit that spark in her cornflower eyes again. Her glee was contagious and Katerina joined in, glad to forget her worries for a moment.

"No, not really."

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><p><em><strong>*Author's Note* <strong>_In TVD, I was honestly a bit scared of Kol, because he really seemed completely crazy to me. So I didn't really expect to enjoy writing him this much, but I had oodles of fun having him clash with his brother.

I believe the paranoia bit is very important about Klaus, I hope that came out well enough. I'm not totally sure about the rest, though, please let me have your opinions on this chapter!


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight – December 1950**

"Merry Christmas, Mr Mikaelson," the woman in the shop called after him, "and a happy new year." He wanted to groan in despair. He hated the festive season, and he had his reasons.

.

_January 1941_

_They were just ranging the very last remnants of the Christmas decoration back into the pantry when the letter arrived. His mother was the one that opened it._

_By the time he had scammed the few impersonal lines she had clasped both hands over her mouth and was sobbing. He put an arm around her in a sudden rush of responsibility – he was her eldest son now. Rebekah came barging in through the kitchen door and stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted them. She threw him a helpless glance._

_Kol stormed in, leaving the front door open. _

_"__For God's sake, take your shoes off, Kol, mother will-"_

_Klaus (suddenly the second-eldest, Elijah just couldn't get his head around that) froze in the doorway, staring at the letter, Elijah and their mother, Rebekah and Kol; at the muddy trail their little brother's shoes had left on the tiles. "What happened?"_

_Esther was sobbing into his jacket and Elijah looked from Rebekah to Kol and back to Niklaus, the words stuck in his throat. Their childhood had, for all his mother's efforts, not been without darkness – would they survive losing a brother?_

_"__London was bombed again," he said, his voice brittle and too low. "Finn and Sage…", he sought his brother's blue eyes, looking for reassurance, support, solace, _anything_, "…they're dead."_

.

_December 1944_

_He stared at the envelope on his desk, his sister's tidy handwriting. _Dear Elijah, it's dreadful here without you. Father is drinking and mother is staring out of the window all the time. Kol is getting on my nerves and mother thinks it's my duty to make him do his homework, but he just doesn't do it and then she's angry at me. I wish you and Nik were back. I heard someone say the soldiers would come home for Christmas. Please tell me you'll come back, too, just for a few days…

_His eyes wandered to the framed photograph taken at another Christmas. His parents stood behind the sofa (a very convenient position because it allowed his father to grip the back of the sofa for balance which made him look much less intoxicated than he'd actually been), his mother__with her perfectly trained smile on her face, her hand on his arm, the wedding band caught the light. Next to her stood Finn, both hands resting on his wife's shoulders. To Sage's right sat Kol, next to him Rebecca in a stiff dress that she hated almost as much as their mother loved it. Niklaus had his arm around her, his easy smile on his lips._

_Elijah sighed and tore his eyes away._

_He fervently wished for news from his brother – he just needed him to be alright. Not just for him, though he had always (unfairly so perhaps) been especially protective of Niklaus. He was just scared – his siblings had already lost so much. Could they survive losing another of their brothers?_

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"This one. This one is perfect." Rebekah tugged at her leather gloves and smiled.

Elijah sighed and watched his beautiful little sister, her silvery blond hair flowing down to her collar bone from underneath her bonnet, light eyes sparkling at the tree in front of her.

"Perhaps, but… you know that even a perfect tree cannot guarantee us a remotely peaceful Christmas, right, Bekah?" he asked softly. "We're sitting on a powder keg. If things only get as bad as last year, then we got lucky."

Rebekah rolled her eyes at him and waved at the farmer's boy. "Gosh, Elijah, could you be any more uplifting?" She looked at him and smiled. "Cheer up and try with some hope, it's Christmas."

"Exactly. It's Christmas," he muttered darkly, shoving his hands down his pockets.

"We'll have that one," Rebekah told the boy with a smile.

"Sure, Miss Mikaelson," he replied, grinning back at her.

Elijah pierced him with a cold glance that made the boy cringe back. "That's it, then. Come on, Rebekah."

"Do you have to keep every last bit of fun from me, Elijah?" she whined as they got back to the car.

"That is Niklaus's duty," he replied nonchalantly and opened the door for her. "I'm just watching out for you."

"Oh, where's the difference," she huffed and got into the car, shaking her head at him. "I mean, it's not like you two get to mess around with your playthings all you like."

The motor howled loudly when his foot slipped off the clutch. "_Rebekah!_"

"What, it's true."

"Could you try with a less condescending choice of words?"

"No," she bit back, staring out of the window. "I don't see why. Just tell me why I can't even smile at someone without you or Nik telling me off like a misbehaved child while you two are allowed to knock around with whoever-"

"_Rebekah, for goodness's sake,_" he snarled. "Stop being so vulgar, who do you get this from-", he broke off, took a deep breath and added a calmer: "No, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

She shook her head at him. "Tell me, Elijah. Is it because I'm a girl?"

"No, it's because you're young-", he replied hotly.

His sister gave a cold, barking laugh. "I'm half a year older than Katerina, you hypocrite!"

"Bekah…"

"I can't believe you," she muttered, still staring out of the window.

"I am sorry, Rebekah!" he yelled. "I never meant to – never meant to get involved with her in any way. It just happened, I don't know how. I haven't had to deal with things like this for seven years and I wasn't even good at it before."

"Oh, of course, Elijah Mikaelson does something he hasn't planned beforehand. Right, who's supposed to believe that?" she scoffed and fixed the landscape outside.

"You are," he replied softly, clutching the steering wheel. "It's true."

She stared at him and shook her head, then after a moment the anger faded from her eyes and a small smile played around her lips. "Well, well, who would've thought. My big brother of all people falls in love… could that be true?"

He slowly exhaled and took his time to park the car in the garage.

"I don't know, Bekah," he whispered. "I've got no idea what I'm doing."

His sister sighed and placed a hand on his arm. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," he repeated after a while, avoiding her eyes.

"You seem so much better to me," she said quietly. "Happy."

"I _am_, more than that, I just – I've lost control, Bekah, I've lost my plan, I don't know how to deal with that," he whispered.

His sister laughed and patted his arm. "It's called life, Elijah. You can't control everything. Let go."

"It's not that easy when you've been trying for half a decade," he replied with a smile and got out of the car. "I am trying to keep my little sister from harm. Look at my other siblings and ask yourself whether that behaviour is really so surprising. Always and forever, remember?"

"You're sweet, Elijah. But, every now and then, try to remember I'm not the eleven year-old girl you left behind anymore."

He chuckled and guided her back to the house. "I'm trying, Bekah. I am. And now brace yourself, mother and Kol must be back by now."

Rebekah groaned. "So much for the season of love and peace."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"I'm sorry, brother, but I've had too much. I need a break."

"Elijah, you can't leave now. Mother will kill you if you're not here for the New Year."

Elijah broke off his pacing and turned to glare at his brother instead. "I know that, Niklaus, and believe me I would love to avoid it." He took up the pacing again. "It's just that I… well, you've seen the Christmas we've had, what with you breaking our little brother's nose… oh, for God's sake, I feel _caged _in here, I can't stay-"

"Why, brother, I can see that," his brother replied with a spiteful little smile. "But what in the name of Heaven am I supposed to tell our mother?"

"Tell her the truth. Tell her that if I'd had another second with this family, I would have gone well and truly insane."

"Isn't that our overall situation?" Niklaus gave, raising a brow at him. "She'll want more than that."

"Distract her from the topic entirely, then."

"Wonderful plan. _How_ exactly do you think I should go about that?"

"Oh, I'm certain there is something on your long list of catastrophes and wrongdoings she doesn't know of yet that ought to keep her busy for a while."

Niklaus snorted. "Like what?"

"What do I know? If all else fails, tell her you slept with Caroline."

Niklaus stared at him in utmost surprise. "Well, now there's a conversation I never thought I'd be having with you."

Elijah stopped the pacing again to pierce his brother with a stern glance. "Would it even be a lie?"

"Of course," Niklaus gave back flatly, then a sly grin crept on his face. "However, something tells me I should ask you the same question."

Elijah held his gaze, but didn't reply.

"Why, why. My saintly noble brother. Who would have thought? But then again, _someone _has to take their virginity."

Something shorted out in his brain. His mind went blank and before he knew it, he'd hit his brother in the face with a force he didn't know he had. Elijah felt as if the air had left his lungs. He had never, _never, _laid hand on his siblings to punish them, had never lost his patience with them, not even Niklaus, no matter what he had said or done. And now all he could bring himself to do was stare at the red blotch forming on his little brother's cheek.

"Looks like we're not that different after all," Niklaus said calmly, having the nerve to smile at him. "Isn't it funny how easily you abandon your tragically conservative moral code whenever it suits you? I wonder how you are any better than me, unless of course having morals you don't respect is still better than not having them in the first place."

"Guard your tongue," Elijah growled and got to his feet. "I'll go, whether you help me or not."

"Well, brother, it's not like I had much of a good reputation to lose when it comes to our mother. But don't expect me to save you from mummy's wrath."

"I would not be so stupid as to rely solely on you, Niklaus," he gave back coolly and smiled at his brother. "I know how that tends to turn out."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

He let out a deep breath as the door fell shut, leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. _Peace._ That was one thing he connected this flat to, the smallish room with the worn-down wooden floor and the minuscule kitchenette. Unlike his room at home that was stuffed to the brim with all sorts of possessions and keepsakes, this was the one place that made him look like a soldier. There was only the most necessary furniture, most of it old and used; only a handful of books and a small number of framed photographs – a picture of Niklaus and Rebekah, around sixteen and nine years old, a photograph of his parents, one of Finn, Sage and Kol, two pictures taken at war.

The other thing this flat always felt like, in all its baldness and practicality and all the peace and quiet it granted him, was loneliness. He wasn't exactly known for inviting fellow students over for a drink – he needed most of his week for studying since his weekends were busy as it was. It didn't bother him, he even liked it that way. If he hadn't had these calm days during the week, he would have probably gone insane a long while back. He needed this to keep sane, to gather his strength, and last but not least to somehow get through his studies.

No, in here, he was safe – and he was alone.

.

The next evening he sat bent over his books, trying to scrape together another two pages for his essay. He'd put some music on, an old record from the twenties, which was why he didn't hear the knocking on the door at first. He got to his feet with a frown, glanced around the flat to find it in a dusty but tidy state and opened the door.

"I know I shouldn't be here-"

There were a handful of snowflakes clinging to her brown curls and her cheeks were flushed from the cold. For a moment, he couldn't muster any reply at all.

"Um… merry Christmas?" he offered tentatively, unsure what to say.

She laughed and pushed the curls out of her face. "Merry Christmas."

"How did you… what brings you here?"

She gave a helpless shrug and tugged at her sleeve. "I was… with my parents, for Christmas. I haven't been with them in a while and it… it was alright, until I," she broke off and closed her eyes for a moment. "I lost my nerve and I just left, and then I got to Waterloo and found that I'd missed the last train," she gave a nervous laugh and shook her head. "I didn't know where else to go."

Several questions shot through his head, but he decided not to voice them and instead said with a laugh: "I can't even remember telling you of this place, am I getting old?" He shook his head. "God, how rude of me… come in, please."

Katerina stepped inside carefully and stopped in the middle of the room.

He suddenly felt ashamed of the heaps of paper that covered the table. "Sorry about the mess, I wasn't expecting visitors."

"No, it's-"

"Please don't say _nice,_" he cut her off with a smile. "Because, let's face it, that would be a blatant lie."

She returned his smile. "It _is_ a nice flat. It could do with some… furniture, but it the rooms are nice."

Elijah laughed and took her coat from her, eying the old garment with disdain. "You must have frozen half to death in this thing. _Again. _When will you allow me to buy you a _proper _coat?"

"I don't allow you to buy me things," she replied with a mild smile and lifted herself on the kitchen counter. "It would just lead to the question where I got them from. Besides, I got through life in this coat for the last three years, I'll get through in it for the next three. You're the spoiled rich kid, don't forget that."

"Careful, young lady," he said, grinning, and stepped in front of her.

"Are we getting a bit condescending now, Mr Mikaelson?"

He placed a hand over hers, leaned across the counter and whispered in her ear: "This is my flat, so… no."

Before he had any chance to pull back, she turned her head towards him and replied very softly, her lips less than inch from his: "I think you do." His breath caught in his throat when she came even closer, her deep brown eyes sparkling at him – God, he'd _missed _her. A part of him was once again screaming in panic because _he was losing control, _wanted to push her away from him; the other wanted to pull her to him and never let go again. So he just froze, sinking, drinking in her eyes.

"And I'm honestly worried about the fact that I like that."

She placed her hands in his neck, her delicate fingers playing with his hair and when her lips met his he realised that this was the first time he felt at home within these walls.

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"Why did you leave your parents?" he asked softly. Night had fallen hours ago, but London was never quiet – certainly not to him who could still remember the sound of the sirens – and though he felt a little drowsy, he knew he needed to ask. Maybe not even for his sake, after all, she had been the one to teach him how liberating it could be to just talk to someone.

He had to help her, too. He owed her that much.

She leaned against his shoulder and the mess of glossy brown curls blocked her face from his view. He had a hunch of what she was about to say and he wondered whether he ought to put some more distance between them – but he certainly didn't want to, especially not now, so he didn't.

"I ran across someone I… someone I never wanted to see again in my life," she replied, her voice toneless and quiet. "And then I just ran."

He waited for her to go on, not wanting to ask, but she remained silent.

"Who?"

"A Russian boy I fell in love with two years ago," she answered, still in that hollow voice. "Kolja, he lives down the street. Older than me, five years. We… wanted different things."

Despite her careful choice of words, he was starting to feel a little sick.

"I wasn't ready," she breathed, her breath quickening slightly. "I didn't want-" Her voice faltered for a moment.

There was a disgusting taste in his mouth, like vomit and ashes. It wasn't like he was surprised – hell, he'd guessed it had been something like this. He wasn't stupid. The second time he'd kissed her, she'd told him she was scared and the spark of fear hadn't left her eyes for a damn long time.

But none of that could have prepared him for the way she spoke about it. So detached, disenchanted, resigned – it hurt.

"I'm not weak," she said suddenly, her voice still quiet but very firm. "I can tolerate a whole damn lot of things. I didn't let him break me. And I would've got through this, if-" She took a deep breath and he wanted to scream, wanted to hold her – but he didn't dare touching her, felt guilty even for the contact of their shoulders. He bit his lip and waited for whatever horrors there were to come.

"We had no money even then. The school was my only future, and I was just fifteen, I was just a child myself-"

He could hear she was crying and he tasted blood. _No. _This was too much, far too much, how was this fair? How were people supposed to believe in justice in a world that let such things happen?

"I kept saying that my father forced me to do it, but that's not really true. I cried for months. I would have never been able to care for a child, but I… I still lost it." Her fragile body shook and he felt the overwhelming desire to hit something. Someone. The one whose fault this was.

"Because I killed it."

"It wasn't your fault," he breathed, his voice sounding raw and hoarse.

"I know it wasn't," she replied calmly. "It was his fault. I never wanted that child and if it had been for me, it would've never happened, but… I still killed it."

He felt like he'd cried for hours even though he hadn't shed a single tear and he was disgusted by himself – he should have taken things slower, he couldn't believe he hadn't, because he'd somehow known, had he not? His hands were shaking and he felt awfully sick.

He got up to put space between them and stared out of the window, not daring to look at her, scared of what he might feel if he did - it wasn't enough, it wasn't even a start, it didn't undo a single second of his sins. But he had to try. He had to do _something_.

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you." She placed a hand on his shoulder which made him feel even worse. He felt dirty.

"Stop blaming yourself. Hey. You helped me, Elijah Mikaelson."

"How?" he asked tonelessly, watching her reflection in the dark window.

"You gave me someone I could trust. And I thought I would never trust anyone again." A hand on his other shoulder, her curls tickling his neck. "_I trust you, _do you understand me?"

"Why?"

She chuckled softly, her breath warming his skin. "I don't know. Maybe because… because it scares you, too, and you do it anyway. We're a little alike, that helped."

"Did he pay for it?" he asked after what felt like an eternity and her silence was more of an answer than he needed.

Although he still felt bad about it, he turned around and let her lean into his arms. If he could give her a little solace, then that was what would do, even if it was a damn lot more than he deserved and not even remotely enough.

They stood still for a while, then she said very quietly: "If you try to offer sleeping on the floor, I'm going to kill you."

He laughed for a second. "Duly noted."

It didn't take long for her to fall asleep in his arms, exhausted from crying. But he lay awake for hours, trying to swallow the taste of ash on his tongue to no avail.

* * *

><p><em><strong>*Author's Note* <strong>_Again, I want to stay as close as possible to the original storyline. And she lost a child. So – sorry, not sorry. And yes, it's very dark and depressing. I'm good at that. Not sure if that's a good thing, but I am. (It does say Romance/Drama in the description ;) )

I would very much like your opinion on the scene between Elijah and Rebekah, too, so please try that nice button below and tell me what you think about this chapter ;)

Btw, I have written some other stories for The Vampire Diaries that you might enjoy, namely "Does Death Have Angels?" (Klaroline) and "How to Tell a Fairy Tale" (Kalijah). Have a look if you'd like!


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine – January 1951**

He stood in front of the mirror and stared at his reflexion, wondering whether it was visible somewhere in his eyes or in his face.

He had started to wash his hands obsessively multiple times per hour, almost scrubbing his skin bloody, and he knew it wasn't going to be long until someone noticed, until someone recognised the signs.

Elijah sighed, dried his sore hands and joined his brother at the breakfast table.

"Good morning, Niklaus," he muttered and poured himself a tea.

Niklaus sat bent over the papers, scrambled eggs and toast growing cold on his plate, hardly touched. Elijah frowned when he saw that his brother was reading the local news – of a London newspaper.

"Morning, brother," Niklaus replied without looking up. "I think this might interest you."

He shoved the newspaper over to him and pointed at a small article in a corner. Elijah raised a brow at his brother and glanced over the short text.

_A twenty-two year-old Russian immigrant was found dead in his flat in Durban Road this Tuesday, killed by several blows and kicks to the head and the chest. The landlord discovered the body when a neighbour who had heard noises and raised voices from the flat expressed his concern about the mechanic. The investigation is ongoing, Scotland Yard is…_

"What did he do to her, Elijah?" Niklaus asked, his voice almost soft.

"Sorry, what?" he stammered, looking up from the newspaper with a start.

"What did he do to her? What was the reason?"

"Who are you talking about?" His voice was far too defiant, too aggressive; and of course his brother heard that and smiled mildly.

"Shall we stop it here, brother? I'm not blind."

"I have no idea what you're referring to," he replied, this time too quietly.

Klaus chuckled and took a sip of his tea, pulling a face when he found it was cold. "Come on now, Elijah. First of all, Katerina leaves her parents three days early, but returns on the planned date," he raised a brow at his brother and added: "But keep pretending that you don't know where she's been if it makes you feel better. Secondly, my ever-punctual brother returns home a day later than he said he would. Thirdly, on precisely that day a young man is killed in the street where your girl grew up-"

"_How _do you even know where she –" he asked sharply and stared at Niklaus, shaking his head. "What makes you find out such things about her?"

"Caroline gave me a letter to post, it went to Katerina's parents' address," he explained impatiently. "I wasn't finished. Point four, my brother returns with a definitely manic air about him and keeps scrubbing his hands like there was something on them. Dirt maybe." He took a spoonful of his eggs and added: "Or blood."

Elijah fixed him with a cold stare. "What do you want, Niklaus?"

"The truth," Klaus replied conversationally. "I want to know what made my ever-so-noble, flawless, restrained brother lose control with so… fatal an outcome." He leaned back in his chair and fixed his brother with his stormy blue eyes. "What did he do to her?"

Elijah shook his head firmly. "I won't tell you, Niklaus. I believe not even Caroline knows… "

His brother smiled. "You know, Elijah, you were the one with the Sherlock Holmes novels. I never liked all that deducing, but I'll give it a shot. So, the three most probable reasons for a murder are, um, greed, jealousy and revenge if I'm not very much mistaken."

"Stop that, brother."

"I think we can rule out greed, don't you, what is there you could want from a young Russian mechanic? Jealousy's looking a lot better, but then again – she hasn't been home for years and you're not the kind of person that would kill a man just because he's been knocking around with your girl, especially not this brutally." Niklaus eyed him closely and went on in a very quiet voice: "Revenge sounds a lot more like you, brother. Killing someone this violently, against your sacred law and your ruddy pacifism – he didn't hurt _you_. He hurt someone you care about. It can't have been any of us, so that only leaves Katerina. Something bad, certainly a crime… if it made you this angry, my money is on rape."

Elijah's fingers closed around the teacup that promptly shattered in his grip. Tea spilled over the table and drenched his toast. Niklaus smiled sadly.

"I'll take that as a yes, then." He sighed and finished his eggs. "Told you – we're not that different. It just took a little more to break you."

Breathing heavily, he contemplated the tea stains on his cuff and answered in little less than a whisper, more to himself than his brother:

"You have no idea how much I hope you're wrong, Niklaus."

"Oh, I believe I do know," his brother replied, still with that tragic smile on his lips.

"No," Elijah breathed. "You don't. Because if I am like you, then we are both lost. And then Bekah is, too. Maybe even Kol. If this family cannot save itself, then no one can."

"I don't need _saving, _Elijah," his brother bit back and got to his feet. "I'm getting better."

"Obviously. And you proved just how much you were in control by breaking Kol's nose on Christmas Eve?" Elijah scoffed.

Niklaus chuckled and shook his head. "Be honest, brother. He deserved it. If I hadn't done it, someone else would have. Maybe even you." He patted his shoulder and smirked at him. "Don't worry, I won't sell you out… as long as you don't give me any reason to."

He sighed and stared at his plate and the tea-stained newspaper. "Are you blackmailing me?"

"No, I'm protecting myself. God knows what you'll end up doing now that you've gone over the edge, brother."

* * *

><p><em><strong>*AN***_ Did that come as a little surprise? I hope it did ;)  
>Welcome to Elijah spiralling. Out of character? Possibly, but think of the witch in TO that he promised to keep safe and then killed because she tried to harm his family. I think he can be fairly violent, with a little incentive. That, and he's dealing with a trauma, let us not forget that.<br>Did you like Klaus's little Holmesian escapade? In character or out of character? Let me have your opinion!


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten – March 1951**

"Girls, there is someone I would like to introduce to you," Mrs Mikaelson called and, as always, when her eyes passed Katerina she flinched slightly and cast her eyes down. The headmistress still had no idea of who her son was spending half his weekends with, and though she didn't really know what would happen if she did, Katerina was dreading that moment to no end.

"So tonight you will all assemble in the dancing room at eight sharp. Now take care of your homework."

Katerina leapt to her feet and made her way out of the dining hall.

"Why are you running like that?" Caroline asked, slightly out of breath as she chased after her friend. Then she suddenly rolled her eyes and added with a grin. "No, wait, let me guess. A certain someone has finished his exams?"

"First half," Katerina muttered and cast a look around. "Keep your voice down."

"Seriously? You two are really ridiculous," Caroline replied. "You can't hide this forever, besides, what are you afraid of?"

Katerina laughed and hurried up the narrow servant's staircase. "Well, Mrs Mikaelson for starters."

"What could she possibly do to you?"

"Throw me out, rip my head off?" Katerina replied with a shrug. "No, honestly, it's him I'm worried about. He's come to blows with his mother so often and he keeps saying he doesn't care, but… I don't think he would just shrug it off if he lost her trust."

"Maybe he wouldn't lose it, Kat," Caroline answered softly. "You don't know how she might react, and for God's sake, he's her son. He loves you, he's happy – shouldn't that make her happy, too?"

Katerina felt a pained smile play around her lips at her best friend's words. _He loves you._

She knew it was her own insecurity and that it probably meant nothing, but –

_He'd never said so._

Nor had she, she knew that too. But she wouldn't, couldn't, not until she could be sure it was safe to say it. Yes, she had trust issues and he knew that. Was it too much to ask to grant her this bit of safety?

"I'm not going to risk it, Care," she replied softly. "At least not for now." She pushed her depressing thoughts from her mind and asked: "Can you help me with maths? I'll never get it done on my own."

"Sure," Caroline muttered, eying her with an odd expression in her cornflower blue eyes.

"What do you think Mrs Mikaelson will have to say to us tonight?"

"No idea," Caroline replied with a shrug. "We'll see."

They set about their homework, four exercises for maths, three pages to read in biology and ten in history, an essay for English.

Though most of the time Caroline's and Katerina's diligence regarding their homework had suffered severely since September, their relationships did have at least one positive effect on their grades for both of them.

Caroline had developed a very strategic, rational way of thinking which was scaring her friends slightly but had worked wonders for her understanding of physics and maths.

Katerina had, though not entirely voluntarily, learned a lot about history since Elijah dropped a reference to some historical event or a famous person in every second sentence. He didn't even notice that he did it and she supposed that he'd never spoken to someone who didn't understand what he meant before. At first, she'd felt insanely stupid when she'd had to ask about it, but with his schoolmasterly disposition, he actually _enjoyed _explaining things to her (and she couldn't help thinking he was starting to do it on purpose, daring her to ask).

Her essays were getting better with every new book on her bedside table. It had been the books that had finally led Bonnie to find out where her friend disappeared to so often. To Katerina's surprise – and immense relief – she had not told a soul about it. Bonnie had even lied Mrs Mikaelson straight to the face a few weeks back when the headmistress had wanted a word with Katerina about a grade.

.

The old woods were starting to feel like home to her, she'd come to know them like the back of her hand. The days were getting lighter again and Katerina yarned for spring to come.

He sat on the narrow wall of the ruins waiting for her. Not for the first time she asked herself how they had to look like from the outside. Him in his black jacket, the fresh haircut, the tie he hadn't bothered to get rid of and the ridiculously expensive leather shoes he insisted on – and then her in the ever-same worn-out coat and the handmade scarf her mother had given her for Christmas, her battered shoes, her school uniform and her curls mussed up from the breeze. He always looked neat, well-to-do, cultivated and mature while she looked so young and insignificant next to him. They were bound to be quite a strange pair for an outside observer.

He smiled when he spotted her and got to his feet.

"Katerina."

A smile spread on her lips, too and she refrained from saying anything at all, buried her fingers in his dark hair and kissed him. She could feel him grin against her lips before he pulled her closer, messing up her hair even more.

She rose on tiptoe and gripped his collar, sighing softly against his lips.

After a moment, he gently pulled away from her and wrapped a stray curl around his finger, smiling. "I don't think we ought to take it much further out here."

She rolled her eyes at him, smiling back. "Well, I've missed you."

"I noticed, yes," he answered and carefully tucked the curl behind her ear.

"So, how did the exams go?"

"Surprisingly smooth," he muttered and pulled her closer again. "Very exhausting, though, and I'd be much obliged to you if you could take my mind off it."

She grinned. "I think that could be arranged."

.

"You don't happen to know who your mother wants to present to us?"

Elijah sighed. "I do. We've got guests from America. Brothers, they've quite recently inherited their father's theatre on the Broadway. Apparently my mother knew him and now they come to her, looking for dancers."

Katerina laughed, resting her head against his neck and said: "You don't seem too fond of them."

"Well, the older one is quite the handful… his brother is rather pleasant company, though. I suppose they're not actually the problem, it's just that I've got more than enough on my plate without them." He sighed and straightened his shirt collar absent-mindedly, his free hand playing with her hair. "But well, another week and they'll be gone."

"Oh you poor man," she muttered, grinning, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Are we getting a bit cheeky, Miss Petrova?"

"That's what got you to like me in the first place," she replied.

"If anything, that was _part _of the reason," he muttered, shaking his head, but she still didn't believe him for a second.

"My mother wrote me," she said quietly, her joking mood suddenly gone.

"Because you left at Christmas?"

Katerina shook her head. "Kolja is dead," she muttered, avoiding his eyes. "Apparently it was all over the papers. Someone beat him to death around the New Year, but Scotland Yard didn't find anything."

"He lived in your street, right? Durban Road?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Yes."

"A whole lot of people live there, someone must have seen something. You don't beat someone to death without anyone noticing," he replied, his voice a little tense.

"A neighbour saw a man, average height, dark hair, army clothes. That's all they ever got. My mother said they never had a single suspect, not even a motive."

He was silent for a while, his fingers tangling in her hair, then asked softly: "Are you alright?"

"Yes. No. I… I feel bad," she whispered, leaning against his shoulder. "I feel dreadful_. _Because I'm… I'm glad he's dead. I'm relieved. I'm an awful person."

"No," he said immediately, pulling her closer. "You're not. _He_ was an awful person. He shouldn't have ended like that, he should have had a trial... But to you, none of this matters, Katerina. Whether dead or behind bars, it is your good right to want him far away from you. Don't feel sorry for him. He doesn't deserve that."

She nodded, not entirely convinced. "I wonder why that man did it," she muttered, staring into the depths of the woods. He didn't speak a word for a long time.

.

"It's time you got back," he muttered after a look at his watch. Said watch was just another proof of the difference between them. Her father had a watch, too – it had cost him about ten pounds and was at least forty years old, he'd bought it from a colleague at work. Elijah's, however, was of a foreign brand, Swiss at a guess. Either way it had been ridiculously expensive and was probably worth a fortune by now.

She sighed and let him pull her to her feet. He still seemed somewhat absent as he took her hand and led her back towards the school. Katerina watched him out of the corner of her eye, taking in his furrowed brow, the tight jaw. His face looked rather pale and something dark sat in his brown eyes.

"Are you alright?"

He immediately put a smile on his face and replied, his tone perfectly even: "Of course."

Katerina sighed. He would never drop that mask, not even for her. "Will you stay until Sunday?"

"I'd feel better if I returned to my books, but I daresay my mother will force me to stay," he muttered, his smile turning a little rueful. "But well, if it means I'll get to spend another afternoon with you, I'll certainly enjoy myself a lot more than I would in London."

She laughed, wondering whether she would ever get used to his kind of humour. Probably not.

"Then I'll try to run away again tomorrow," she answered and added with a slight frown: "I can't believe nobody at school noticed this. I mean, what do they think I'm doing?"

"Their assumptions are probably fairly close to the truth," he replied lightly and smiled. "Though I suppose most of them won't have _me _in mind as the person you spend all your time with. I'm far too…"

"Smart?" she suggested, brow raised.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Old. I was going for old, Katerina."

"You're not _old._"

"Maybe not in years, but there _are _nine years between us."

She shook her head, her free hand deep down her pocket. "If this is your way of telling me I am childish-"

"If you ever let me finish a sentence-"

"You would wallow in self-pity and doubts even more than you do already," she shot back, grinning. "And I thought _I _was the expert."

"_If you let me finish my sentences_," he repeated, forcing a stern look on his face, "you would never reach such absurd conclusions in the first place. Now I can't remember what I was about to say, thanks a lot," he growled, but she could hear the laughter he barely managed to hold back.

"Something about me being too young for you-"

"There, you're doing it again, I never said that," he said, still grinning, then his voice turned serious. "Twenty-six is not an old age, but I… feel old. You should have someone whole to take your mind off your worries, not someone who has more problems to burden you with than a person twice my age should have. Not someone as broken as I am."

She stopped, turning to face him, but he avoided her eyes. "You may be troubled, Elijah, but you're not broken. I mean, if you were broken, then what would I be?"

He shook his head mechanically, still not looking at her. When he replied, his voice sounded unusually reluctant. "You know, a lot of people told me it was a miracle, how I came back from war without so much as a scratch. And then they look at my brother and tell me I am so much stronger than him and… that just proves that they're wrong, because I was never the stronger one, I was always weak." His grip around her hand tightened and he stared at their intertwined fingers. "For a long time, I felt alright. But what if I'm not? What if there's something _wrong _with me and I haven't noticed?"

"Then someone else would have," she replied softly, reaching out to place a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. "Where does this come from?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "I'm afraid somewhere at the back of my head, it's always been there," he muttered. "It's just logical. How could Niklaus come home so broken and I not be affected at all? It must have had an effect on me, and the fact I can't pinpoint it makes it even more terrifying," he added, a slight laugh in his lips.

If she hadn't been watching him so closely, she would have probably not noticed that it sounded a little fake.

"Looks like you got your fair share of paranoia," she said, a false smile on her own lips. "I'd call that an effect, wouldn't you?"

He chuckled, looking at her in an odd way. The next moment he'd gripped her by the shoulders and pressed his lips to hers, almost desperate. His fingers wandered through her hair, over her back, trailing down her neck and over her cheeks. A soft gasp escaped her lips – this was uncharacteristic to say the least, he depended on his self-control and his composure like nothing else and it was almost frightening to watch it slipping through his fingers like that.

"What happened to 'you should get back'?" she muttered breathlessly. "Not that I'm complaining."

A smile twitched around his lips, real this time. He stepped away from her, hands down his pockets. "Quite right. Apologies."

Katerina groaned and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"You're apologising."

He smiled and gently brushed her curls back into place. "Sorry."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Well, goodbye, then."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll try," she muttered. "We've got extra training, but… I'll get away for half an hour or so."

He nodded, still smiling, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Goodnight."

With that, he was gone and Katerina hurried back to school, cursing. Dusk was falling already and she had no idea what time it was – what if she'd be late?

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

Just as she had feared, she was running dangerously late – when she hurried into the entrance hall, Hayley, Anna and Rebekah were just coming down the stairs. Katerina hastily adjusted the skirt of her uniform.

"Katerina, where've you been?" Anna asked, frowning at her.

"Oh, I just needed some air," she replied, still panting slightly. "Got a terrible headache, probably the homework."

"Well better hurry, then, Mrs Mikaelson's waiting," Hayley said. "You should probably take care of your hair, it looks a mess."

Rebekah smirked, but thankfully said nothing. Katerina wondered fleetingly why she hadn't told her friends all about it – maybe Rebekah did indeed care for her brothers as much as she always said.

"Sure," Katerina muttered, hurried up the stairs and pulled her hair into a ponytail as she went.

When she skidded into the dancing hall, she was the last of the girls to enter – not for the first time. This was turning into a dangerous habit.

Mrs Mikaelson pierced her with a highly stern look and she swallowed hard. Her secret was growing increasingly heavy on her shoulders.

"Girls, I would like to introduce to you the sons of my dear old friend Guiseppe Salvatore," she called. It was only then that Katerina noticed the two young men standing by the window. They wore casual, expensive clothes, probably very fashionable – though Katerina didn't know much about fashion.

"These are Damon and Stefan Salvatore. They own a theatre at the Broadway in New York and are here to see whether they would like to offer any of you a contract."

One of the two brothers, a blond, gentle-looking young man, watched them almost shyly while his brother eyed them all openly with his light blue eyes, a faint smirk playing around his lips.

"They will attend your daily training and watch you very closely to see if there is anyone who interests them."

Katerina watched the two young men and thought she could tell which of them was the older, the one that Elijah had complained about: there was a distinctly reckless air about Damon Salvatore, about the way he ran his hand through his dark hair. He had that smirk, that mischief in his bright eyes – he clearly shared a great deal of traits with Kol and Niklaus Mikaelson. The fact that this annoyed Elijah almost made her laugh.

"This is a big chance for your future, girls, so I suggest you try hard." Mrs Mikaelson threw them all a sharp glance and smiled faintly. "You may go now."

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"Well, Kat? What would you say to New York?" Bonnie asked while she forced her comb through her curls.

"Oh please, I'll never be chosen anyways," she scoffed and turned a page of her book.

"Don't say that," Caroline argued. "Mrs Mikaelson named you third best after all. I mean, of course they'll want Rebekah, but she'll never go. And why would she, she's good enough to make it to London."

"What about you then, Care?" Katerina shot back and glanced at her friend over her book. "What would you say?"

Caroline tugged at her nightdress and answered slowly: "I don't think I could do it."

"Why not, you always wanted to travel."

"Well, _travelling _does imply that you're coming back," Caroline replied and sank down on her bed. "And if any of us goes to New York, God knows if she'll ever set foot on British soil again."

Katerina sighed. Caroline was right – if one of the girls left for New York, then she'd leave forever.

Caroline didn't have any reason to want to go; she was good, maybe even good enough to make it to London. And even if she didn't, her mother might have neglected her from time to time, but she was wealthy and would be able to support her daughter if necessary.

Katerina wasn't so lucky.

Suddenly a diffuse fear gripped her – she had never really realised this, but the day she'd finished school, she would practically be standing on the street.

* * *

><p><strong><em>*AN* _**Well, what do you think? Where is this going to put Kat and Elijah? I hope you were satisfied with Elijah's reaction, there is more to come about how he feels about the whole Kolja thing in the next chapter. In the meanwhile, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this story so far and I hope I could surprise you a little there with the Salvatores!


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven – March 1951**

His brothers were up to something. Both Niklaus and Kol eyed him over the dinner table, Niklaus with something like worry in his blue eyes, Kol with his usual spark of measured insanity.

He supposed they had each not noticed that the other was plotting something – neither of them would be prepared to conspire with the other, no matter for what reason.

"What?" he finally barked over the table, turning towards the brother by whom he felt most aggressed.

"Didn't say anything, darling brother," Kol shot back, smirking.

"Then stop looking at me like that," he snarled, feeling his hand tighten around his fork.

His little brother smiled and took a sip from his glass.

"What's that you're drinking, Kol?" Elijah asked sharply, causing Kol to roll his eyes.

Niklaus snatched the glass from his brother's hand, sniffed at the dark liquid and replied matter-of-factly: "Red wine."

"Mother, he's sixteen, don't you think you should have an eye on what he does-"

"Don't you think you should have an eye on what _Elijah _does, mother?" Kol cut him off in a sickly sweet voice. "I mean, when he's, say, mysteriously disappeared in the afternoons and comes back with his shoes full of wet soil and leaves."

"Well, God knows half an hour with you sparks a craving for quiet and oxygen in pretty much everyone," Niklaus replied drily. "Can't blame him for wanting a walk-"

"Well, we all know where you go on your _walks, _brother," Kol shot back, his smirk widening even more.

"You want to compare my sex life to Elijah's, Kol," Niklaus scoffed and emptied his glass, "with all due respect to your childlike innocence, that is quite frankly a little insulting."

"_Niklaus,"_ Elijah said sharply, but neither of his brothers took any notice of him.

"How sweet," Kol scoffed. "Trying to cover up for your big brother. _Always and forever_, right?"

"Would any of you please explain to me what you are talking about?" Esther interrupted finally.

Elijah leaned back in his chair and sighed, trying to calm himself. Somehow he was having a lot more issues with that than he'd used to.

"Kol?" She looked at her youngest son, a brow raised.

"Just trying to lighten the mood, mother," Kol replied with a shrug and grinned at his big brother.

"Well, you're not bloody funny," Elijah gave back tensely, in a tone that resembled Niklaus much more than himself.

"There, there," Kol said, hands raised, "where's my ever-composed brother gone to?"

He just sighed and turned his eyes away, seeking self-control at the bottom of his wine glass.

"Quite right," Niklaus said very softly, too quiet for the others at the table to hear, "where's he gone to?"

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

"One more minute and you would've thrown something."

"Nonsense," he replied tiredly. "I've learned that there is really nothing to stop Kol from messing around with all of us."

"Oh come off it, brother," Klaus gave back, pouring himself another glass of scotch. "You're on edge, even I can tell as much."

"Why would I be?"

His brother frowned at him. "Well, you did kill someone, Elijah. With your disposition to morals, the guilt must be eating you up." He paused, eyed his brother sharply and added softly: "Unless of course it isn't."

He stared at his brother, slightly taken aback. "What are you trying to tell me, Niklaus?"

Niklaus sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh and stared into the fire. "You worry me, Elijah," he began slowly. "Things like that never fazed you before, and now… you keep losing your temper, and violently so. You don't even seem sorry-"

"You wouldn't, either," he said, his voice tense. "That man was sick, a pervert little lunatic." His throat was tight, he couldn't breathe. "I didn't… I didn't go there with the intention to kill him, I just wanted to talk to him… she wasn't the only one, there were more, maybe five in total, and he didn't even regret it-"

"So you took his life for it," Klaus said, no inflection whatsoever in his voice. "Is that the kind of justice you believe in?"

"What do you want from me?" he demanded, his voice quiet, shaking a little.

"I don't want anything. It just scares me… watching my big brother falling to pieces," Klaus replied, his blue eyes still fixed on the dancing flames.

"I'm _not _falling to pieces," he said stubbornly, clutching his glass. "That is nonsense."

Klaus looked up at him, that wretched, dreadful smile on his face. "We both know it isn't. Just ask yourself: what triggered this? What was it that shook you so deeply?"

"What do you think, Niklaus? How about two years of war and another five of secrecy, pressure and running after you?"

"You had it under control, Elijah," his brother replied softly. "Then you suddenly cracked. Things like that happen for a reason."

That awful rage was starting to build up inside him again and he poured himself another glass against his better judgement – surely getting drunk would do nothing to better his situation, but he felt like he needed it.

"Since when do you _care, _anyway? What's it to you?" he spat, fixing his younger brother firmly. His hand was shaking slightly.

"You said it yourself, brother," Klaus answered calmly. "You're the one keeping us together. If you go down the same road as I did, then this family is lost."

"Oh, so all of sudden, this family matters to you?" Elijah scoffed. "Consider me pleasantly surprised. What brought the change of mind about?"

"Cynic doesn't suit you," Klaus said flatly.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, if you have anything to say, why don't you just spit it out," he snarled, downing the rest of his glass. The scotch tasted stale.

"Katerina."

"What about her?" he demanded, his voice quiet and cold. _You grow more like father every day, _a little voice in his head whispered and he did his best to ignore it, clutching the empty glass.

"She pushed you over the edge, Elijah-"

"That is _utter rubbish_-"

"Not voluntarily. But she's who lost you your composure and deep down, you know that."

An ice-cold laugh escaped his lips. "Even if that was in any way true, Niklaus, I _would not care._ I love her, I don't know if that expression means anything to you."

"Actually it does, brother," Klaus answered softly. "But remind me, where does it say again that love necessarily does good things to a person?"

"Your company is depressing me, Niklaus," he said after a moment of stunned silence, shaking his head. "I'm going to bed."

"And I'll try to get drunk on what little scotch you left me," his brother answered with a wicked smile and raised his glass to him. "Sleep well, brother."

.

An hour later, he still couldn't sleep – just as his brother had intended, of course. He stood by the window, the lights in his room all turned off to avoid a reflection on the window pane. It wasn't late, not even eleven, and there was still a light shining in a few windows across the forest.

His hands hadn't stopped shaking since the talk with Niklaus.

Even though there were several points that angered him about the situation – the fact that Kol had chosen the exact same evening to try and sell him out to their mother that Niklaus decided to confront him, the fact he'd lost his temper, _twice, _the fact he'd had too much drink for his own good, the fact he hadn't managed to hold his own against his younger brother in the least – the worst thing was that Niklaus was right.

Everything he'd done, every path, every clue, _everything _eventually led to Katerina.

There was nothing else that might have triggered it, and well, he hadn't actually _needed _to retrace his every step since then.

He had initiated a relationship, a _physical _relationship, with a girl that was not only nine girls younger and therefore not of age but also clearly traumatised. He hadn't been able to help it, he just hadn't found the strength to resist – he'd done it because he'd _wanted_ her.

He had lied to his mother for what were almost five months now – because he _needed_ her.

He had shoved his brother into their father's bookshelf with such force Niklaus had been in pain when speaking for weeks and had a bruises covering his back that had taken even longer to heal – for her.

He'd let Niklaus break their youngest brother's nose – because secretly, he'd wanted justice for Kol's behaviour towards Katerina.

He'd beaten a complete stranger bloody, kicked him more times than he could count, until he didn't move anymore. And then he had left him to die, in a puddle of his own blood, never looking back – because all he could see was the way she'd come undone in his arms, that never ending pain in her chocolate-coloured eyes.

He had then continued to cover up his sins, lying to his mother, to his friends at university, his sister, Kol and, worst of all, to Katerina_._ Obviously, he feared for his own life, for his family, but more than anything, he was doing it for her. He couldn't lose her that newfound trust.

All for her.

He'd known that. What scared him, though – what was keeping him awake – was something else Niklaus had hinted at.

Would he have to choose between Katerina and his family?

.

~ö~ö~ö~

.

The next morning, he felt like he'd been physically tortured.

The ridiculously few hours of restless sleep had brought him nothing but nightmares – he couldn't remember them when he woke up, but there was something else on his mind. A memory so clear he couldn't believe it was already twelve years old.

_"__What happened? Why are you this wet?"_

_His siblings stood by the riverside, soaking wet. Rebekah seemed to be crying, Niklaus had an arm around her shoulder._

_"__Bekah fell," he answered, his voice barely understandable since his teeth chattered so badly. "I pulled her out."_

_"__She fell…?" Elijah stammered, rushing to his little sister's side, and wrapped her up in his coat. "I told you to stay away from that bridge, Bekah, I told you!" he snarled, gripping her at the shoulders. _

_"__It was my fault, Elijah," Niklaus said, still shivering. Elijah wrapped his thick scarf around his brother's neck, throwing him a stern look. But when he saw his little brother's blue eyes, full of shock, a little defiance and slight fear – fear of his big brother being angry with him – he felt his features soften and he shook his head._

_"__No. No, it wasn't your fault. It was my fault. I should have watched over you, I should have been here, I…" He rubbed Rebekah's arms to keep her warm. "I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry."_

_He pulled Niklaus closer to his side in an attempt to keep him warm. His little brother winced when he touched his arm and Elijah fixed him with a stern look._

_"__Was this father?"_

_Niklaus didn't say anything and stared at his shoes. Elijah shook him._

_"__Niklaus, tell me. Did father hurt you?"_

_He nodded very slightly, still fixing his shoes. Elijah swallowed and looked at his brave little brother, biting his lip._

_"__Next time you call for me, understood?" he whispered._

_"__I'll help you, too, Nik," Rebekah said suddenly. Niklaus grinned, but the little girl went on, clutching her brothers' hands. "We'll help. We're there for each other, right?"_

_"__We are, Bekah," Niklaus answered, a smile playing around his lips._

_"__Always?" Rebekah asked, looking up at the two of them._

_"__Always," Niklaus replied solemnly._

_Elijah nodded. "Always and forever."_

* * *

><p>"Caroline, Hayley, Katerina?" Mrs Mikaelson called after them. "Would you come into my office for a moment?"<p>

Caroline and Katerina glanced at Bonnie, grimaced, and entered her office.

"Sit," she said, pointing at the three chairs facing her desk. They did as they were told, all squirming uncomfortably, though Hayley clearly did not feel as bad as Caroline and Katerina.

"I'm certain you know what this is about."

"The Salvatores," Hayley answered, nodding.

Mrs Mikaelson smiled. "That's right. They wanted to talk to you themselves, but I wanted you to make the decision for yourselves. They are prepared to offer all three of you a contract. If you chose to take them up on their offer, they would see for your journey to America to be arranged by the middle of April-"

"But then we won't even finish the term," Hayley interrupted her. "We couldn't do our finals."

"We would make an exception and allow you to sit your final exams early so that you wouldn't have to leave without a graduation certificate, Miss Marshall," Mrs Mikaelson explained. "It's inconvenient, but well… You have access to my phone should you wish to call your parents about this, Katerina, you would need their agreement. You have a few weeks to make up your mind. Any questions?"

They all shook their heads, none of them looking very surprised. They'd been expected it.

"Then you may go," she said, but when they were almost out the door, she called: "Oh, Katerina?"

She froze in the doorway, her fingers closing around the doorframe. She swallowed hard before she turned around.

"Yes?"

Mrs Mikaelson scrutinised her with that unreadable expression on her beautiful face. "Is there anything you would like to tell me? Anything I might need to know?"

Katerina stared at her, shocked. Then she forced a light smile on her lips and replied, with her best innocent voice: "No, ma'am. Um… why?"

"Oh, Kol, he… said a few curious things. And you are quite certain?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Mrs Mikaelson nodded and said, no inflection in her voice: "Alright. That's all, then, Katerina."

Hayley stood on the corridor when she left the office, waiting for her. "Well?"

"Oh, just some legal stuff about my parents," Katerina muttered with a shrug, staring at her feet.

Hayley frowned at her. "I meant the offer. Will you accept?"

"I…"

Firm, unusually loud steps on the stone floor interrupted her. "Miss Petrova."

She jumped at the sound of the familiar voice and turned to face the man coming towards them, his hands deep down the pockets of his black coat, the collar turned up against the wind outside. The boots, responsible for the noisy entrance he'd made, looked like they were a remnant of his army uniform. His hair was unkempt and windswept, but there was that trademark flicker of danger in his eyes.

"We need to talk."

Hayley stared at him, then frowned at Katerina, clearly unsure whether she should leave her alone with him.

Katerina swallowed, glancing at him. "Of course," she muttered, throwing Hayley an insecure smile.

Her classmate nodded slowly, threw a last distrustful look in his direction and left.

"If you're looking for Caroline-"

"She's up in her dormitory, doing her homework," he replied, cutting her off. "I don't need you to point me the way. But we've had a little quarrel; I wouldn't want to force my presence upon her for the time being." The little smirk playing around his lips suddenly disappeared, leaving a serious, keen expression in his blue eyes. "No, I came for you, love. Or rather, for my brother."

Katerina frowned at him – Elijah was in London, sitting his final exams. "Why, what happened?"

"Oh, a great deal of things, I take it he didn't tell you… but mostly, I've come to realise something that my brother clearly hasn't yet." He leaned against the wall, piercing her with those sharp bright eyes. "There are only two possibilities the future holds for you, sweetheart."

"I don't see why that's your-"

"_Please _don't interrupt me," he said in a slightly annoyed tone, glancing at the ceiling before returning his gaze to her. "The first possibility is, quite obviously, that you accept the offer my mother has probably just presented to you. Of course, that means you would have to turn your back on Britain, but for that you'd have a regular income and, with a little bit of work, you might get your fair share of fame, too. Should you refuse that offer, however… why, then you would get to stay, but it wouldn't be long before you were left without money and shelter."

She stared at him, completely taken aback. Why did he _care? _Why did her future bother him, why did he even waste time considering her chances? His analytic mind had probably not taken a lot of time to spell out the meaning this offer had for her, but still…

"Unless of course you would subtly hint at that predicament of yours in front of someone wealthy enough to support you. Someone who feels responsible for you, perhaps, that would feel guilty about your dilemma…"

Suddenly she grasped what he was implying and for a moment, she was too appalled for words.

"In short, you would be required to marry rich, a possibility that is more or less within your-"

"Don't you dare," she cut him off, seething with anger. "Don't you _dare_ implying that I had such motives even for a second-"

A shadow of his trademark wolf-like smile flickered across his features. "I'm not here to make reproaches, love. I am worried about my brother's happiness given his disposition to make stupid decisions based on his preposterous morals. I don't care what you may or may not have in mind, but if Elijah reaches the same conclusions as I did, then he might make such an offer and thus ruin both your future."

"Your opinion of him seems to be quite low if you think the wrong wife would be the end of him," she bit back, not sure why she even reacted to his ludicrous accusations in the first place.

Klaus gave a cold barking laugh. "The problem lies not in the choice of his future wife but in the fact that, no matter how unhappy he might be, he would never consider a divorce and therefore be stuck with said wench for all eternity."

She opened her mouth to answer, but he cut her off. "You, however, should you find yourself in this position, would end up in a beautifully furnitured townhouse in a nice borough of London, playing the housewife, maybe raising the kids," he added with a condescending laugh, "asking yourself whether your husband loves you or whether he just married you out of his sense for duty. You would begin to ask yourself what he's doing during the day and you would have torn your marriage to pieces before your firstborn finishes primary school."

She stared at the man in front of her, that spark of darkness in his blue eyes, and wondered what really made him do this. Did he take pleasure in watching her suffer? Surely it was not out of worry for Elijah, since when did Klaus care about his brother's happiness? What would he gain through this?

"Who's to say it would end like that?" she asked very softly.

"I say that, love, and I'm usually right," he replied, his husky voice equally quiet. "Regardless of Elijah, though…" He stepped closer, his lips almost touching her ear. She shivered as his hand brushed over her shoulder, her breath caught in her throat.

"Tell me, Katerina… would you really care to have that life… or would you rather dance?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>*AN* **_Now, since I'm trying to at least very loosely follow the original storyline here, Klaus needed to have his part in everything, so I decided to have him do what he does best – meddling, manipulating and scaring people. It got a little out of hand, though… I actually meant to reach a climax in this chapter, but well… more for you, I guess no one's going to be angry with me for that ;) I'm like really proud of Klaus and the little flashback in this one – I am so happy I managed to get "always and forever" into this story, because it is the essence of their relationship.

Now, I hate to be begging, but... If everyone who favourited this story had written three reviews (and this story has had eleven fairly long chapters so far, so that's not really all that much to ask, is it?) I'd have something like sixty-seven now. So please leave a few lines to tell me if you enjoyed it (and what parts you particularaly liked/disliked, etc...)


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